Heart's Blood
by Canimal
Summary: Fred wasn't supposed to die. He was too young, too vibrant, too full of hope for the future. Hermione has the chance to right the wrong, never once considering how dire the consequences could be for her selfless act. Fred may never forgive her for taking matters into her own hands.
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note_** ** _: I'm supposed to be on a writing and posting break, but I had a story that I just couldn't get out of my mind. No idea how long it will be or how long between updates. Please be aware that this story will have fairly dark, adult themes including: Death (even major character), Violence, Suicidal Ideation, Drug and Alcohol Abuse, Self-Destructive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, and a heaping dose of PTSD._**

 ** _This story follows the end of the second wizarding war. Healing and grief are messy, painful subjects. Don't expect all of the characters to just bounce back to their pre-war selves. That's unrealistic and naïve. Also, as with all of my stories, expect that no one, especially Hermione, will be perfect._**

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Chapter One

Even with the sounds of the battle raging all around her in the castle, Hermione couldn't hear them. How many brightly colored streams of light erupting out of the end of a Death Eater's wand narrowly missed her she couldn't be sure. She stared at the lifeless form of the wizard that had been such an annoyance to her since she was eleven years old, an annoyance she learned to endure and then to appreciate. And then finally to miss in those freezing nights in the tent during the horcrux hunt. Nothing made the least bit of sense. If Fred could die, if Fred could have the light in his eyes snuffed out long before his time, _no one_ was safe.

Only the abrupt arrival of one of those damned acromantulas from the forest broke her out of her thoughts. She couldn't afford to remain in the same spot just waiting for another creature, human or otherwise, to end her life just like his. As much as it pained her, she knew that she had to keep running, keep fighting, keep living. Fred would never forgive her if he discovered that she was killed because she was too busy mourning him to take care of herself.

Harry pushed her towards Ron, yelling at her to move. There was a hole in the side of the castle. More enemies were pouring in. Determined not to leave Fred's body where it could be savaged any further, Percy and Harry stopped their fighting long enough to move it to a hidden niche where a suit of armor once stood. Percy, incensed with grief, ran after the Death Eater responsible for killing his younger brother.

It had been a struggle to keep Ron from rushing off with Percy to aid him in his revenge. She could understand quite well why he was so desperate to run after Augustus Rookwood, but there were more important matters that had to be dealt with first. Even as she uttered those words, they tasted like ash on her tongue. She didn't want to imagine a world without Fred in it for even a second. Focusing on the next step, killing the fucking snake that would finally allow Voldemort to die, she wouldn't allow herself to think too much about what happened. There would be time enough to grieve when it was all over. If she didn't stay alive long enough to ensure that they were successful, Fred's death would be in vain. She couldn't bear to imagine that possibility. Wasn't his death already enough of a waste?

Everything that happened next occurred in such a dense fog that she wasn't even sure how she continued moving. Indescribable sorrow and choking fear were the only emotions that she knew. Attacking Greyback had been an automatic reaction. Despite her problems with Lavender over the years, the witch had been her roommate in the Gryffindor dormitory for six years. She deserved a better fate than what the monster gave her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision, but her curse made its mark. Somehow she knew that if _anyone_ got in her way or tried to kill one of her loved ones, she wouldn't fail in killing them. Enough raw magical energy coursed through her in that moment that she felt confident she could take on any foe.

Watching Hagrid be swept away in a tide of acromantulas threatened her resolve. She feared for the man she'd come to admire and care about so deeply. Would he be just another casualty of the damned war that should've never happened? Seeing Grawp run after his older brother gave her a little bit of hope. The small giant would do whatever he could to save Hagrid. She could only offer a hope that it would be enough.

Never had it been so difficult to conjure a patronus as when the hundred or so dementors descended upon the castle grounds. Hermione tried desperately to think of a happy enough thought to keep them at bay. Each memory was colored by the reminder of the loss of the funny wizard she'd watch die. How could she ever be happy again? Fred wasn't the only loss either. She knew that before it was all said and done, assuming that she even made it to the end, she would discover others that she loved and cared about were dead too. It was all senseless. _Why_ did they have to die? Because some madman was intent on living forever and wanted to rule? It didn't make any sense.

In the end, focusing on the promise that they would end Voldemort and create a better world in the future where children didn't have to fight in wars they had no business being involved in was enough to produce her silvery otter. But even that wasn't enough. There were too many dementors. Her otter faded, leaving them vulnerable to the onslaught of the wretched creatures. If it hadn't been for the sudden arrival of Luna, Ernie, and Seamus, she didn't want to imagine their fate. Perhaps it would've been even worse than Fred's or poor Lavender's.

Most people in their society would've run in the opposite direction from the place they knew the feared He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was located. Not three reckless Gryffindors with the weight of the world on their shoulders. She would never forget the horror they witnessed inside the Shrieking Shack. Even with all that he had done to hurt her in the past, Hermione couldn't help but feel pity for Professor Snape. His was a wasted life.

 _"_ _You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest… One hour."*_

Hermione could hardly hear the rest of the speech from Lord Voldemort's mouth. Her mind moved in a dozen different directions. What would they do next? Nagini still needed to be killed before they could even hope to end it all. How would that be possible? All the way back to the castle, she walked in silence with her two best friends trying desperately to consider what they would do when the hour was up. Harry couldn't possibly go to the Forbidden Forest to meet with Voldemort. It was madness that would end in him being killed. She couldn't bear the loss of her best friend. It was all too much.

None of them were expecting the scene they were met with inside the Great Hall. A sob caught in her throat when she realized that the dead had been laid out in the middle of the room. She could see the Weasleys huddled together near the spot she was certain they would find Fred's body. Unsure if she could bear to see it again, she knew that she had to keep moving forward. Desperate for something to do to alleviate some of the pain throbbing in her chest, Hermione reached for a silently crying Ginny. The younger witch clung to her with both arms, grateful for the embrace. Even more tears rolled out of Hermione's eyes. Would she ever stop crying?

Keeping a tight hold on her, Ginny led her closer to the grieving Weasley family. Each step made the pain even worse. Was it possible to die of a heart attack at eighteen years old? Seeing Mrs. Weasley sobbing over her son's dead body was too much. Turning away from the sight, Hermione was horrified to recognize the two bodies laying next to Fred. Remus and Tonks were brand-new parents who should've had a long, happy life watching little Teddy grow up. It was unfair. It was all so bloody unfair!

She quietly apologized to Ginny before rushing away from the heartbreaking scene. If she didn't get away from all of the senseless tragedy, she feared she would go completely mad. Thankful that the castle had plenty of hidden alcoves and corridors that could be slipped into, Hermione ran up the grand staircase to the first floor. Who else was going to die before it was all over? The depressing thought ran over and over through her mind. Slipping behind a tapestry, she allowed herself to give in fully to the emotions threatening to burst out. If she didn't give them an outlet, she wouldn't be able to move forward. Tears were cathartic. That was something that she was more than aware of. As much as she tried to be strong and unflappable in front of the rest of wizarding society, especially those she went to school with, she was frequently overwrought. She knew all of the good places in the castle to have a good cry when it was necessary. Unfortunately, it was often necessary.

When the last of the sobs fell from her mouth, she was no closer to coming up with a suitable next step. All of her thoughts were too consumed with the losses of her loved ones. For a reason she didn't fully understand, seeing Fred lifeless was harder for her to bear than all of the others. Sure, she considered him a friend. Even when he frustrated her and irritated her to distraction, she cared about him. He was a part of her life for so many years. Losing him was the last nail in the coffin of her childhood. She would never be young and innocent again.

Time was slipping through her fingers like sand through an hourglass. Voldemort promised them an hour to honor their dead and for Harry to meet him in the Forbidden Forest. How much time passed since he made that announcement? If she didn't come up with a plan, they would be in serious trouble. There would be no future for her to worry about. If Voldemort won the war, she would be in Azkaban or dead for her crimes against the Dark Lord. She was a danger to his plan for immortality because she knew about his horcruxes. He would want to make an example out of her and Ron. And especially out of Harry. Even if he promised leniency for every other person still alive who chose to fight against him, Hermione knew that he would show them no mercy.

She stared at her battered wristwatch, amazed that it was still working. To her surprise, not as much time passed as she thought. Everything in the battle happened so quickly. The hour was running late though. Soon Voldemort would end his offer of a temporary truce. Still no adequate plans came to her. She needed more time to think up one, more time to convince her best friends they would make it, more time to…

 _More time_. They needed more time. A desperate thought took hold, one that she was sure was completely insane and impractical. Everyone was so demoralized that maybe if she was able to find more time they could do it. Without giving herself an opportunity to doubt her crazy plan, Hermione exited the hidden niche and took off running as fast as she could towards Professor McGonagall's office.

The professor was _supposed_ to return her time turner to the Ministry of Magic at the end of her third year, but Hermione knew for a fact that she never did. Though she never came right out and admitted that she still had it, there was a moment in Hermione's fourth year when she was in her favorite professor's office discussing the reason why Hermione couldn't seem to stay awake in her classes. It had been embarrassing to admit that she spent all of her free time after she finished her homework knitting hats and socks for the castle's house-elves. If Professor McGonagall approved of her endeavor or not, she never said. She just simply advised Hermione to _try_ to get a full night's sleep. A discreet tapping of a hidden drawer on her desk and a cheeky wink caught her student's attention.

"And if you find that perhaps you wish to spend a few hours resting and cannot find the time, well, then you might consider dropping into my office. I trust that you would never do anything foolish with such power."

Years might have gone by since she had that private meeting, but Hermione had to keep up the hope that the professor never cleaned out the drawer she pointed out. Few people were in the corridors as she ran. Most were still huddled in the Great Hall. Occasionally she ran across a distraught defender who was desperate for a place to hide or who cried to a companion that they wanted to leave. She could understand the desire to flee. Only the hope that she could save a life and help end the bloody war for good kept Hermione's feet moving.

Professor McGonagall wasn't inside her office. It was a small favor. If she _had_ been, Hermione didn't think that she would be so quick to help her with her plan. So many things could go wrong with it. She didn't waste a single moment rushing to the drawer in the large desk. Tapping on it just the way her professor did, she sighed in relief when it opened. A velvet bag was all that lay inside. Carefully opening it, she could feel even more tears form in the corners of her eyes. Except they weren't tears of sorrow.

She threw the chain of the time turner around her neck. To be certain she didn't miss the deadly altercation in the corridor when Fred fell, she spun it four times. The fighting hadn't begun in full force yet. She would have to be very careful in sneaking to the exact location Augustus Rookwood murdered Fred, but there were plenty of secret passages and hidden corridors that would take her there. There wasn't a question of whether or not she _could_ be successful. She _had_ to be. Seeing the grief and pain in both Harry's and Ron's faces, that no doubt mirrored her own, had been devastating. She had to save Fred to keep them from losing all heart. It was the only way.

It had been tempting to curse Malfoy and his goons in the back from her hiding place when they entered the Room of Requirement after her two best friends and the Hermione she was hours earlier. She struggled to feel any sort of sympathy for the death of Vincent Crabbe since he perished in his attempt to murder them, but she couldn't help but recall that she could easily save his life too. Of course, if she did stun them, the Fiendfyre wouldn't have destroyed the diadem. The mission had to come first. Without its destruction, they wouldn't be able to kill Voldemort. She stayed hidden.

Time travel was a tricky business. No one had been able to uncover all of its secrets yet despite centuries of research and application. Of course it was a fascinating subject that Hermione tried to learn as much about as she could. Muggle science fiction movies were often closer to the truth than the magical researchers wished to admit. She knew that she was in danger of creating some sort of temporal paradox with her meddling. What the consequences of that action could be, she didn't know. Possibly nothing, possibly worse than anything she could've imagined. All she knew was that she wasn't willing to live in a world where the antics of the Weasley twins weren't readily available to make them all laugh. They would need some levity in their future. If… _when_ Harry finally defeated Voldemort, there would be many who weren't fortunate enough to survive. As much as Hermione would've loved to save everyone she could, it was too risky. Having too many versions of herself running around the castle was too dangerous. There were too many opportunities for it all to go terribly wrong. As she understood from reading the accounts of those who'd time traveled before her, if one version of her died, they _all_ would die. If she was running around the castle trying to save Remus or trying to protect Tonks, those versions would be vulnerable. She couldn't risk it. She was being foolish enough to try it in a corridor where she _knew_ her other self was going to appear. So much could go wrong.

Before she was ready, they were bursting out of the inferno in which the Room of Requirement was engulfed. She hadn't made up her mind just how she was going to prevent Fred from being killed. Rushing out and trying to duel Augustus Rookwood one-on-one so he didn't have the chance to cast the spell to blow up the corridor wasn't a good idea. He was a Death Eater with nothing to lose. The spells he cast at her wouldn't be tickling charms or stinging hexes. Maybe not at first, but eventually his curses would become more dangerous and deadly. If she was killed in her duel, her other self would die too. There was a reason she was warned to never allow another version of herself to see her. Others in the past inadvertently killed themselves when they saw their future version. Whatever she did, she had to be very careful.

The yells and shouts she remembered from earlier announcing the terrifying reality that Death Eaters were inside the castle filled her ears again. From her hiding place, the same niche that Harry and Percy hid Fred's body, a fact that she tried not to dwell on, she could see Fred's and Percy's backs. They were impressive in their dueling. She hadn't had the chance to really pay attention when she'd seen it the first time. Fear that the castle was no longer safe was all her mind could focus on. Again she was tempted to intervene, but she stopped herself. If she did it too early, someone else could end up killed instead of Fred. Maybe even more than one. She had to wait for the exact moment of the explosion and somehow get Fred out of the way.

"You actually _are_ joking, Perce… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were—"**

Hermione never took her eyes off of Fred. As the corridor exploded around them, she cared for nothing and no one else. Her mission had been to save him. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She could _see_ the section of wall that was going to crush the wizard to his death. Casting a spell at the stone to keep it from falling on him was too dangerous. It could easily scatter the stone to land on someone else who didn't deserve to die. Besides, she didn't think she could get it all in the tiny window of time she'd been afforded.

Instinct took over. She hadn't been Sorted into Gryffindor for nothing. There was a time for logic and rational thinking and there was a time for action and foolish bravery. With her eyes still focused solely on Fred, Hermione sprinted from her hiding place, ignoring the chaos all around her to throw her body against his. He fell sideways, crashing to the hard floor. Her body still in motion, Hermione fell with him. Thousand year old stone rained down on them both. Able to shield his body with hers, she knew she was successful. Even as pain riddled her body and the darkness came, she never doubted that she made the right decision.

"No!"

Moments later when the dust settled in the corridor, two versions of Hermione Granger lay dead in the corridor: one with no visible wounds and the other completely broken by the wreckage.

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 ** _*Line from Chapter Thirty-Three "The Prince's Tale" in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_**

 ** _** Line from Chapter Thirty-One "The Battle of Hogwarts" in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Fred knew the exact moment that the life drained out of Hermione's body. It was a feeling that he'd never experienced, one he would've given his own life to never feel. What had the foolish woman been thinking sacrificing herself? He'd seen her in the corner of his eye emerge from a hidden nook in the stone wall to hurl her entire body against his. She _meant_ to push him out of the way of the crumbling stone wall that would've… _should've_ meant his own death.

Perhaps it was macabre and inappropriate to even entertain the slightest flicker of the thought that there had been many times in his acquaintance with the young witch that he would've given just about anything to have the length of her slim body stretched atop his. He'd been able to push aside those desires because he knew that his little brother was in love with his best friend whether he realized it or not. Never did Fred want a woman to come between him and any of his brothers. Blood meant more than that. But as he felt the too-light weight of her malnourished body on top of his, Fred longed for the chance to go back in time to make a different decision.

"No!"

The word was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He didn't even recognize his own voice. There was so much anger and fear and pain all wrapped up in one single elongated syllable that Fred could've sworn it came out of a stranger's mouth. The crush of the falling stone surrounded them both and there had simply been no _time_ to get out of its way. If Hermione's body hadn't taken the brunt of the force, he knew without a doubt that it would be _his_ body laying broken on the floor.

Screams resonated throughout the corridor that Fred could hardly hear. The beating of his own heart in his ears was deafening. Frozen in both confusion and a paralyzing sorrow that he knew he couldn't allow himself to give into, he didn't know what to do next.

"Hermione!"

His little brother's cries tore at Fred's heart. Immediately he felt guilty for the thoughts he'd had about wishing he could go back in time. He would have to push aside his own grief until he was alone. It wasn't right to take the moment from Ron. He'd seen the way they looked at each other before they ran off on their mysterious mission after Bill and Fleur's wedding. What they must have endured in the months since was anyone's guess. War made people feel stronger emotions than they might in peace. Perhaps they'd even been in love.

"Fred, are you all… _how_?"

Percy's question made little sense to Fred, but he didn't think it was the time to try to figure out his older brother. There was _a lot_ about Percy that he just simply didn't understand. With the dust of the explosion settling, they had to remember that there were still enemies in the castle ready to finish what they'd already begun.

"How is she here and over there at the same time?"

Fred began to lose patience. Using his wand, he levitated the pieces of stone that crushed the poor woman on top of him to death. Realizing what he was trying to do, Percy snapped out of whatever odd mood he was in long enough to help remove more of the stone. When Hermione's body was completely uncovered, Fred was able to gently slide his body out from under hers. He was reluctant to let go of the solid weight, but knew there was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do to help. She'd been the first fatality he'd seen that horrible night. Unfortunately, he didn't think she would be the last.

It was only when he made it to his feet that Fred finally understood what had his brother so confused. Ron had thrown himself across the body that was the double of Hermione's. Unlike the poor woman that shielded Fred from the falling stone, there was no blood, no sign of trauma on the witch he held in his arms. Harry's eyes darted back and forth between the two bodies, evidently at a loss as well.

There was no time to uncover the mystery. Chaos erupted in the corridor. Curses flew in from the damaged wall. Instinct forced Fred to his knees to cover the broken body at his feet. More screams filled his ears. Percy yanked on his arm, desperate to pull him off the ground.

"We can't stay here, Fred. We have to keep moving."

"No, Perce, she's… I can't leave her all alone."

"She's… there's nothing that we can do."

More shrieks of terror and the sight of the largest spider Fred had ever seen finally convinced him that his brother was right. Hermione's war was over. His wasn't. He had to keep fighting or what she did for him would be entirely in vain. Harry and Ron blasted the first spider with a stunning spell, but one look outside the hole in the castle revealed that more were on their way. If they stayed where they were, they would soon be facing down an army of the beasts.

Ron scooped up the seemingly uninjured body of the Hermione double in his arms with little effort. She'd been so thin that she didn't weigh much of anything at all. Realizing that his younger brother was looking for a safe place to lay the body of the witch he loved, Fred knew that he had to do the same. Ignoring the tears that clouded his vision, he cradled Hermione's broken form to his chest. Blood dribbled out of the side of her mouth, but most of her injuries were inside her small frame. Percy led them over to a small niche where a suit or armor had been before the battle began. It wasn't until Fred laid the broken woman next to the body Ron carried on the stone floor that his younger brother even realized there was something amiss.

"How… why are there two of her?"

They were running out of time. Each of them knew that if they stayed too long in the same place, they would be in deep trouble. The Death Eaters inside the castle already proved that they were cursing to kill. And those damn monsters certainly wouldn't stop at just injuring and maiming. Even knowing all of that, Fred couldn't say anything to answer Ron's question. He didn't understand it either.

"Maybe it's polyjuice?"

Percy's explanation made as good of sense as anything else that Fred's troubled mind could come up with. He couldn't take his eyes off of the broken witch, terrified that when he finally walked away he would have to admit to himself that she was dead because of him. She'd taken the wall that was meant to topple on top of _his_ body. Harry had the presence of mind to dip his fingers underneath the collar of the second Hermione, _Fred's_ Hermione. A flash of gold in his hand told the wizard all he needed to know.

" _Fuck_ , Hermione!"

Harry looked as if he wanted to scream and cry and blast the woman into pieces. Afraid that he was out of his mind with grief, Fred stepped between the Chosen One and his dead best friend before anything else could happen to her battered form. There had to be some respect for the dead even in the middle of a battlefield.

"She's wearing her Time-Turner. Where did you get that, Hermione?"

The younger wizard didn't bother to brush away the tears that rolled down his cheeks out of his deep emerald eyes. He yelled at his friend as if she could hear what he was saying. Ron pulled at his sleeve, openly sobbing himself.

"Harry, we have to keep going. We have to get the snake. If we don't, she died for _nothing_."

Extreme grief could turn anyone into a foolish hero. Ron dragged Harry away, intent on completing what they started. Whatever was meant by getting the snake was a complete mystery to Fred. He didn't care. Even as Percy reminded them all that they had to get moving, Fred just stared at the exposed necklace around Hermione's neck. He'd never seen a Time-Turner in person before, but he certainly knew they existed. How many times had he and his twin brother joked about getting their hands on one? There were ever so many more pranks that could be done when one had the power to turn back time.

The sand spilled out of the Time-Turner during the crushing of the stones on its user. Never again would it be usable. No matter how much Fred wished he could spin the damned artifact himself to save the foolish girl from sacrificing herself, he couldn't. Not even an expert in the Department of Mysteries would be able to repair the damned thing. She made a one-way trip for nothing.

It was all to save _his_ life. That was the only explanation that made the least bit of sense. When he'd seen her in the corner of his eye running out of the same niche they laid her body, Fred could tell that she had a specific purpose in mind. She _meant_ to push him out of the way. The other Hermione had only been a short distance away. She must have seen the aftermath of the explosion and made the foolish decision to go back in time to save his life. _Why_? _Why_ would she do something so stupid? He wasn't worth it. Not a damn bit.

"She saved me. She came back to save _me_."

He appreciated the weight of Percy's hand on his shoulder. Though clearly wishing to get as far away from the corridor as he could get, his older brother wasn't about to leave him alone. Not caring that his own face was wet with tears, Fred tore his eyes from Hermione to stare in his brother's eyes.

"Who was the bastard that killed her?"

"Rookwood."

There was nothing else to do but make certain that the Death Eater who stole her life died screaming. Fred made a promise to himself that he intended to keep. Either he would kill Rookwood or he would die trying. Shrugging off Percy's hand, he ran in the direction he saw the tall Death Eater rush away when the acromantula climbed inside the castle. One of them was about to die.

Something inside of Fred snapped. All other sights and sounds in the castle seemed to disappear. He could feel Percy only steps behind him, hear him shout curses and spells in the direction of their enemies, but he could only focus on the desire for revenge churning in his guts. _Never_ had he been so angry in his entire life. Perhaps if he managed to survive the ordeal to come he would dissect his feelings and figure out why he was so single-minded in his actions.

"Rookwood!"

The roar out of his mouth when he turned the corner at the end of the corridor sounded foreign even to his own ears. Augustus Rookwood stopped his running long enough to focus an unsettling grin on his pursuers. Fred refused to allow himself to feel the tiniest shred of fear when the seasoned Death Eater began hurling curse after curse down the corridor. Instead of the bright flashes of green that Fred expected to see, it quickly became evident that the older wizard had intentions to play with his new opponent.

"Did the pretty little Mudblood die?"

A stream of red light shot out of the end of Rookwood's wand as he spoke his taunts. Fred refused to listen, refused to give the monster the ability to upset him. Using a simple shield charm that he'd learn to perfect in a DA meeting, he advanced on the wizard. Rookwood wasn't intimidated in the slightest. He laughed.

"It's probably best that she died. She wouldn't have liked what we were going to do to her when we win."

More spells were easily deflected. The distance between the two men lessened.

"O' course, _none_ of the witches are going to like what happens when we win. War's so much harder on them sometimes."

Fred refused to let the wizard get to him. They continued their duel, trading off spells and blocking with shields with no apparent leader. Rookwood might have been more experienced and with a great deal more power, but Fred had righteous fury and something else that he couldn't quite describe on his side. He would _not_ allow the man to win.

"Your little sister will get to learn. Sweet, little thing, she is. I'll be sure to seek her out when I'm done with you."

A shout of anger just behind Fred's right shoulder caught him off-guard, almost distracting him from his opponent. Seconds could mean death in such a contest. Curse after curse shot out of the end of Percy's wand towards Rookwood. All of the Weasley brothers had been terribly protective of Ginny since the day she was born. Rookwood was only _just_ able to block the onslaught with a shaky shield. It would've been effective if Percy had been the only one intent on destroying him. The tiniest sliver of a break in the spell gave Fred the opportunity he needed.

It might have surprised Hermione to know how often he spent with his nose in a book. He might not have been open about how much he actually studied when they were in Hogwarts together, but he _did_ find reading enjoyable. Especially when he could learn all sorts of horrifying spells to inflict unimaginable pain on those who would harm those he loved. With a single flick of his wand and the utterance of a curse he never would've believed would one day come in handy, Fred watched as the orange light struck Rookwood directly in his slightly paunchy gut.

Rookwood's screams were loud enough to hurt their ears. Unable to hold the shield he was using to keep Percy's curses at bay, the wizard dropped his arm. A ripping sound like one piece of heavy fabric suddenly becoming two mixed with his shrieks. The ripe smell of burning viscera assaulted their noses. Percy gagged even as Fred cast the spell a second time. Just to make sure it took, of course. The wizard's insides exploded out of his belly in an impressive display that splattered over every surface in the corridor. Fred didn't blame Percy for vomiting. He might have too if he hadn't been so damned proud of his own work. With his stomach hollow and more of his blood and guts outside his body than in, Rookwood collapsed to the stone floor. He would never be able to harm another person. It was small consolation.

"What the bloody hell was that, Fred?"

"Less than he deserved, Perce. If I'd had time, I would've kept him alive for days just to make him suffer."

He refused to feel the slightest bit of guilt for the manner in which he exacted his revenge on the man who killed Hermione. _Never_ would he feel even the slightest twinge of remorse or regret. If anything, seeing the remains of the arsehole bleeding out only gave him the added courage he needed to make certain the rest of his comrades fell. Fred didn't want to imagine an outcome where being dead was preferable to being alive. He wouldn't allow any of the cretins who followed He Who Must Not Be Named to touch a single witch inappropriately. What would Hermione say if she knew that was even a possibility? She'd be right next to him blowing up every Death Eater she could. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He would've liked to have stood next to her in battle.

There was no reason to remain in the deserted corridor with a corpse. Not when the rest of the castle and the grounds were under siege. He still had other members of his family that were in danger. Part of him wished that he knew where Ron and Harry ran off to. He wanted to help. Whatever it took to end this, he was willing to do it. Too many people had already died for a pointless war.

Percy led him down to ground floor where the fiercest of the fighting was still taking place. Several Death Eaters tried to attack them on the stairs, but they were a formidable team when they worked together. Barring a few singes on the edges of their robes, neither wizard was harmed. Fred still had the benefit of the rush of adrenaline from Rookwood's kill to buoy him along. He felt no fear of death or pain. Part of him wished that they would try to end him just so he could retaliate against them like he had the former Unspeakable. He could understand what the term 'lust of the kill' actually meant for the first time in his life.

At the bottom of the marble staircase just outside the Great Hall, he and his older brother were forced to take on three Death Eaters at once. Spells shot entirely too close for comfort. Fred pushed Percy out of the way of more than one unfriendly curse. They might not have been so successful if they hadn't been suddenly assisted by their father and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Even as he was fighting for his own life, Fred had never been more impressed by the speed in which his father dueled his masked attacker. Who knew that the eccentric wizard obsessed with Muggle plugs could be so deadly?

The moment that it was clear they were no longer in danger from the three unconscious Death Eaters, Fred was thrown up against a stone wall. Confused at first and expecting another enemy, he was shocked to see the wide and frightened eyes belonging to his brother Percy. Very few times had he ever seen his brother so angry.

"What do you think you're trying to do, Fred? Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"

He couldn't argue that he wasn't being careful with his own safety. It hardly seemed necessary to make sure he was all right. All that mattered to him was avenging Hermione and keeping his loved ones alive. If something happened to him, he didn't care. When he tried to push his brother off of him, Percy stood his ground.

"She died so _you_ could live. Don't treat her sacrifice so cheaply."

Anger welled back up inside Fred. Was that truly what his brother thought was happening? That he didn't appreciate what Hermione did for him? How _dare_ he accuse him of that?

"I'm supposed to be dead. Don't you understand that? I _know_ what she did for me. She saw me die and she went back in time to save my life. Don't you _ever_ accuse me of treating her sacrifice cheaply."

"Then prove me wrong. Stop being so reckless. _Live_ for her, Fred."

It was easy to assume that there was no passion inside the third Weasley brother. Percy always seemed to be too serious and obsessed with rules. The tone of his voice and the pleading in his eyes proved to Fred that there was a lot about his brother that he didn't know or understand. Even without the past two years where he'd made it clear he didn't want anything to do with his family, Fred hadn't given Percy much of a chance.

"What is the meaning of this? We're supposed to be fighting Death Eaters, not each other."

Arthur pulled the back of Percy's robes to get him off of his brother. Taking in the sight of his two sons, the wizard's face paled. Too late Fred realized they were both still covered in blood and guts. The smell wafting off of their robes had to have been overpowering, but thanks to the continued explosions and foul plants that Professor Sprout conscripted into battle, it was easy to ignore.

"It's not my blood, Dad. Or Percy's."

"Whose is it? Do I want to know?"

"Mostly Rookwood's." There was pride in his voice when Fred announced his kill. He would _never_ allow anyone to take that away from him as long as he lived. Recalling the reason _why_ it was imperative to kill the Death Eater, he dropped his voice and his eyes before continuing. "A little of Hermione's."

His father's mouth dropped open. Tears welled up in his eyes. Hermione had been practically a part of their family for years. Unable to handle the heavy emotion threatening to drown him again, Fred stepped away from the wall. He needed another fight, another duel to take his mind off of what happened.

 _"_ _You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait one hour in the Forbidden Forest… One hour."*_

He could live a thousand lifetimes and still not get used to the sound of Lord Voldemort's voice. A quick glance around the ground floor of the castle showed that Fred wasn't the only one. It filled him with a dread that he couldn't quite describe. What sort of game was he playing at? Allowing them an hour to deal with their dead and wounded didn't sound like an offer he would make.

"Where is she? Where did she..?"

Fred was too focused on his father and then on Voldemort's voice to realize that Kingsley was standing just a few steps away. There was sadness in the auror's voice when he repeated his question and asked where they could find Hermione's body. Kingsley fought with Hermione on the back of a thestral the night they helped move Harry to the Burrow. It was no wonder that he was saddened to hear that she was dead. That wasn't an experience that most got to share with another.

"I'll show you."

Before Fred could even make it a single step towards the staircase, Percy stopped him again. Prepared to fight with his brother if necessary, he glared and clenched his fists.

"Go clean up a bit first, Fred. You don't want Mum to see you like that. I'll take him."

Their dad placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"We'll bring her down to the Great Hall, son. Percy's right. Your mother doesn't need to see you like that."

With three wizards against him, there wasn't much of a fight. Fred sighed, knowing that they were right. Once he was no longer running through the castle, he felt disgusted by the remains on his clothes and skin. His mother _would_ go mad if she saw him. Before she even had a chance to see for herself that he was all right, the blood alone would make her fearful. Likely she'd already had enough stress to deal with. He might not have had any children, but he could imagine what it was like to have all seven of them fighting for their very lives.

No one stopped him as he made his way to the nearest lavatory. He was glad for the break from people. Before he was ready for it, he knew that his twin brother would seek him out and want him to explain everything that happened. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. How could he explain it all? He was still trying to figure it out himself.

A few spells cleared up most of the muck and blood on his clothes. At least enough that his mother wouldn't immediately try to strip him when she saw him next. He lingered at the sinks scrubbing off the blood from the skin he could reach. When it was all over, he wanted to go back to his flat above their shop and stand under the stream of his shower until his skin wrinkled. Maybe then he might be able to feel like himself again.

The castle was unnaturally quiet when he emerged from the lavatory as clean as he was likely to get for the time being. He pushed aside all of the memories of the times he and his brother used to sneak around the castle when it was quiet and empty because all of the good children were in bed. It seemed like such a carefree time that he'd never get to experience again. _None_ of them would. No matter how the rest of the day went, none of them would ever be the same.

He felt sick to his stomach when he saw the line of bodies in the Great Hall. Too many people died that day and there were likely to be even more. Seeing his family huddled in a circle with Harry made him want to turn right back around and run. Could he be strong when he saw her broken body again? It wasn't his place to make a public spectacle of himself. She wasn't his girlfriend. They'd never even so much as held hands or kissed. He'd _wanted_ to kiss her of course. There was a moment when they were spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place that he almost caught her under the mistletoe. It had been a great regret of his that she'd stepped away at the last second without even realizing the perilous position she almost put herself in.

Ron knelt next to her body, holding her hand and silently crying. He'd been in love with her. Fred felt guilty for his thoughts about the mistletoe. It was hardly the place. When he stepped close enough to see the pale face of the witch that saved his life, he found only one body. He knew he wasn't crazy. There had been _two_ when he ran after Rookwood. Scanning the line of the dead, he was confused. The tiny, broken body that saved him from being crushed was nowhere to be seen. Just as he was about to demand to know what was going on, he felt the gentle pressure of his father's hand on his shoulder yet again.

"We thought it would be less confusing and less upsetting for everyone if we only brought one body in. There would be a lot of questions that we don't know how to answer."

"She saved my life, Dad. She went back in time to save me."

"I know."

"Where is she? She shouldn't be alone."

Arthur sighed.

"Kingsley carried her to the caretaker's office."

The words were hardly out of his father's mouth before Fred was heading back out of the Great Hall. How could they do that to her? How could they treat her like she was _nothing_ and just dump her in Filch's office all by herself? He knew the way to caretaker's office on the ground floor by heart. It was impossible to count the number of times that he and his twin brother found themselves in there over the almost seven full years they were in the castle.

A sob caught in his throat at the sight of her body laying on top of the desk. She seemed impossibly small. Had she always been that little or was death just playing tricks on his eyes? Being crushed to death left few visible injuries on the outside. If it weren't for the dried blood on the side of her mouth and the unnatural angles her arms lay in, she might have simply been sleeping.

Fred sat down in the chair behind the desk. Exhaustion as he'd never felt it before plagued his entire body. He wasn't sure he would be able to stand up again if Voldemort himself walked into the room and demanded he do so. Much like his little brother did in the Great Hall, Fred took one of her small hands in his. The warmth was already leaving her flesh. Soon she would be as cold as ice. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against her arm. How could she do this? How could she knowingly risk her life just to save his? He wasn't worth it. He _should've_ been dead. He didn't deserve it. None of it.

The sound of the door creaking open jarred him out of his thoughts. Snapping his head back up, he was startled to make eye contact with Argus Filch. Even though it was his office, he just assumed that the caretaker would be elsewhere in the castle. He wasn't even a wizard. Didn't he leave with the students through the portrait in the Hog's Head? Why would he bother to come back?

There had always been tension between the two of them. Fred knew he hadn't always been very kind to the man, but it had been fun to torment him so. Unsure what he was about to say or do, he just waited for Filch to say the first words. Instead, he set a small bowl of warm water next to Fred's free hand and dropped a clean cloth on the desk.

"I thought you might want to… might want to clean up her face. She… she could be such a pretty girl."

Filch's voice broke with his own heavy emotion. Nodding to Fred once, he turned around and left. As much as it pained him, he dropped her lifeless hand back to the desk. Dipping the cloth in the bowl, he then brought it to the side of her mouth where the red blood dried. With as much tenderness and care as he could manage, he began to wipe away the grime and gore. His hand trembled as he cleaned off her lips. He was embarrassed to admit that he'd longed to kiss them many times. Especially when she was mad and yelling at him about something. He always wondered if kissing her would make her forget why she was mad in the first place. It was just another in a long line of regrets.

When her face was clean, he set the bowl and the cloth aside. Instead of reaching for her hand again, he gently removed the Time-Turner that still hung around her neck. It was broken, useless, but he wanted to keep it. He wanted to have a reminder for the rest of his life of her sacrifice. The weight of it around his own neck underneath his collar felt heavy. He would always remember.

His gaze fell on her lips. It would never be enough, never be good enough, never be what he wanted, but it was all he had. Fred pressed his lips gently against hers for the first and only time. Another sob caught in his throat. He stepped back from Hermione, not wishing to let his tears drip on her face.

 _"_ _Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away…"_ **

The day was not over yet.

* * *

 ** _*Line from Chapter Thirty-Three "The Prince's Tale" in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_**

 ** _**Line from Chapter Thirty-Six "The Flaw in the Plan" in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Author's Note_** ** _: So this chapter was never-ending. Lol! I knew where I wanted to end it, but actually getting there took me down some paths I didn't expect. Oh well. I just follow how the story grows. Hope you enjoy it!_**

* * *

Chapter Three

He couldn't believe that it was all over. Couldn't _allow_ himself to believe that the end of the war had finally arrived. As Fred stood in the Great Hall only a few meters away from the seemingly dead body belonging to Lord Voldemort, he struggled with the new reality of a world without the evil Dark wizard lurking in the shadows. How could he truly be dead? They'd all made that mistake when Fred was a small boy thinking that the infant Harry Potter put an end to their worst nightmare.

No one seemed in a hurry to celebrate the end of the battle that scarred their beloved castle. Perhaps just like Fred they were all numb and afraid to trust their own eyes. It was only as the remaining Death Eaters and their associates realized the peril they were in and began to run for their very lives out of the school did the victors come to their senses. With all of their attention focused on capturing the bastards who followed Voldemort, it didn't take long to subdue the last of the evil wizard's forces. Only then did the celebration begin.

Fred never expected to make it to the end of the war alive. While he certainly didn't give much credit to the often inaccurate branch of magic that dealt with soggy tea leaves and foggy crystal balls, there was a moment when he _knew_ he would die before it was all over. Months earlier when he was still able to conduct limited business in his Diagon Alley shop despite there being very few customers still in need of his products, he stood in the back aisles of his shop restocking the shelves trying very hard not to think about the danger he knew his little brother and friends were in. There had been almost constant worry about the three of them since they disappeared from Bill and Fleur's wedding. He rarely allowed himself to give into the fearful thoughts that plagued him outside of the darkness of his empty bed.

But a chill fell over him that day that he couldn't shake off. If a giant, black dog crossed his path in that moment, he would've believed everything that batty Professor Trelawney whispered and hinted at in the one year he and his twin brother took her class. Premonitions weren't real, he'd decided long before he ever entered the stuffy tower classroom. They were just something that overly dramatic attention-seekers claimed they experienced when they wanted to seem impressive or important. Even with that fervid belief, Fred couldn't deny that standing in his shop with his hands full of Skiving Snackboxes, he _knew_ he was going to die.

There were very few secrets that he'd ever kept from his twin brother, but for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to tell George what he felt. Maybe he didn't want to worry him or maybe he didn't want to admit that he might've been wrong about premonitions and Divination. He held the secret close to his chest for months as the war waged around them and simply being a member of the Weasley family became ever more dangerous. When he stepped into Hogwarts through the portrait hole from the Hog's Head, he could hardly breathe. The realization that it was going to be the last night he was alive was choking. Still he remained silent. There was no reason to force unnecessary grief on anyone he loved before he was even dead. Plenty of time for that after.

All throughout the beginning of the battle, he knew it was only just a matter of time before something happened to him. It was why he'd tried to stay as far away from the other members of his family as he could. Bringing one of them down with him felt like the ultimate cruelty. Only Percy didn't seem to want to let him out of his sight. Maybe he'd had a premonition too about his little brother. Or he felt guilty about all of the bad blood between them over the previous few years. They'd always butted heads. It only grew more intense as they grew older. As much as he tried to distance himself from his family, Percy refused to leave him alone for even a second. Fred feared that would be a decision they would both come to regret.

Except for Hermione Granger they might very well have. If she hadn't made her ridiculous sacrifice, Fred would be dead and Percy could be too. While the normal, logical reaction would be to be thankful that she used a time turner to save his sorry arse, all he felt was pure, paralyzing anger. He wasn't sure that he would ever forgive her for what she did. He'd had _months_ to prepare himself for the inevitability that he would die. Part of him had even looked forward to it. There were days when he wasn't sure there was anything good left in the world to stick around for. If his death could somehow help end the war, he was glad to go forth on the next great adventure.

"Are you all right, Fred?"

Percy's voice cut straight through the wizard's thoughts. When he didn't immediately answer, his older brother placed his hand on his shoulder to gently squeeze his shoulder. Unlike how he'd attacked him at the bottom of the staircase when he believed that he was being too careless with his safety, there was nothing but gentle concern in Percy's voice when he repeated his question.

"Not really, Perce."

It was honest. Even with the shouts of joy and laughter of relief that he could hear all over the Great Hall, Fred wasn't sure he would ever be all right again. Only when the initial excitement ebbed and the stark reality of the losses that they'd all suffered began to take hold of the other defenders did he feel the anger in his gut increase. Yes, he would mourn those he cared about who fell. Yes, he would honor their memory. But he would be _damned_ if he ever felt a moment's pleasure that he was still standing on his own two feet at the end of that harrowing nightmare.

Careful coaxing from his older brother led Fred across the stone room to where the members of his family were gathering. A knot in the pit of his stomach lessened when he did a quick count to find that all members were present. How was it possible that a large family like the Weasleys with so many enemies suffered _no_ losses? It was unfair. The Lupins left their only son an orphan. Other families would have holes that would never quite be filled again. Why did their family get to be so lucky?

His mother didn't waste a moment pulling him into her arms. Fred's eyes filled up with tears he was afraid to shed. As he held his mother tightly, he willed the tears to disappear. If he started crying, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to stop. Too much happened that day. Too much happened that year. Too much happened in his entire life. When he thought he was coming to the end, he'd been almost relaxed. Knowing that he would have to figure out how to live on threatened to drown him in fear and uncertainty. How did one keep living when they were prepared to die?

"I had such a terrible feeling about you, Freddie." His mother whispered in his ear. The tightness in his chest only increased. "I was so afraid that something was going to happen to you."

"It _did_."

Molly Weasley had the sharpest hearing of any woman alive. Or so her children believed. It didn't matter that he said those two words under his breath, she heard them clearly. Gently pushing back from him, his mother stared into his face with wide, worried eyes. Clearly his father hadn't told her the truth of how Hermione was killed. Not that he was surprised. There hadn't exactly been a lot of time to do so and how exactly did one even explain something so unbelievable?

"There's plenty of time to talk about that later, son. This isn't the time."

His father was often the calm voice of reason in their hot-headed family. Of course he had his own moments, but for the most part, he was the one they all listened to and trusted when they needed guidance. Though it was evident that his mother was full of questions, she didn't ask them. Like her husband said, there would be plenty of time later for that. Not that Fred was sure he would ever be ready.

Kingsley stood on the dais holding the Head Table and called for everyone's attention. Fred respectfully turned in his direction, but he didn't hear a word that was said. A sharp ringing in his ear that might have only been inside his mind prevented him from understanding what had his family members around him and everyone else in the room nodding their heads and wiping at their eyes. Only when Kingsley reached the very end of his impromptu speech when he mentioned they should all pause to honor their dead in silence did Fred have any idea what was happening. His mind kept wandering. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get it to stay still.

The minute that passed might have been as long as an hour or even an entire day by the way it crept along. He felt frozen. When the stark reality of the true depth of loss suffered by their side was realized, he knew it would be overpowering. To keep from going down that path before he was ready, Fred allowed his mind to wander to other topics that might've been better left undisturbed.

Hermione's sacrifice couldn't be the end. Between the two of them, she had much more to live for than he did. She was going to change the world. What was he going to do? Spend the rest of his life inventing trick wands and fireworks? It hardly seemed like an equal trade. Her life for his made no sense at all. She'd been a fool to save him. If only there was some way that he could change time back to what it _should_ have been.

His twin brother stood on the edge of the circle of their family discreetly holding the hand of Angelina Johnson. A smirk tugged at the corner of Fred's mouth that he almost gave in to. How many times had he borne witness to his twin whinging about there never being any decent women available? Fred had known since fifth year that his brother was desperately in love with the beautiful Chaser. Part of the reason that he'd asked her to the Yule Ball was to try to goad his brother into declaring his own interest. Sadly, his plan failed. Though it had been a perfectly lovely evening with Angelina, she wasn't the right witch for him. And based on the pained looks George must have assumed were subtle that he shot in his brother's direction all night, all he did was manage to make his own date uncomfortable.

Sometimes those who didn't know the twin brothers very well assumed that they were just one person between the two. They couldn't be more wrong. Although no one could deny their similarities and the fact that they enjoyed the other's company, Fred and George Weasley were two individuals with different thoughts, feelings, likes, and dislikes. Even different loves. Never had they even been interested in the same woman at the same time. Discreet and not-so-discreet inquiries from prospective witches who fancied a chance to be with the brothers at the same time were frightfully common, but never something either of them even entertained. Fred never wanted to be with a woman, even just physically, who only saw him as simply an extension of his brother. He only wanted to be with someone who wanted to be with _him_ and him alone.

George would've taken his death the hardest. Just imagining how it would feel if George were the one to die instead made Fred's chest tighten. He didn't want to know what a world felt like without his twin. But, he knew that eventually his brother would've been fine. Because they were two separate people and not just two parts of a whole, his brother would've been all right. Grief rarely killed anyone. Even if it took years, there would come a day when George would be back to himself. Lots of people lost their siblings in tragic circumstances before they were ready to lose them. They adjusted. Would it be easy? Absolutely not. Life rarely was.

Needing to step away from the crush of his relatives, Fred excused himself to anyone who might have been listening to exit out the nearest door. Ministry officials who were conveniently too late for the actual battle arrived to take custody of those Dark witches and wizards left over after their master's demise. They swarmed over the captives, dragging the bastards out by their bound hands. Never had he been more thankful that he'd killed Rookwood. He would go to sleep with his conscience clear every single night where that arsehole was concerned. With him dead, Fred never had to worry that one day he would break out of Azkaban again to hurt another innocent.

If he'd been thinking in his right, logical mind, he would've realized that sitting alone in a dark office with a dead witch wasn't the healthiest of decisions he could make. What was the use in conversing with someone who couldn't hear him? Even just sitting in silence didn't make much sense when the other person couldn't tell they weren't alone. Still, despite his reservations and the thought in the back of his mind that he was being foolish, Fred found himself standing in front of Argus Filch's office once again.

He was glad to see that the hasty protective spells he coated the room in before he ran out to continue the fighting held. A sickening thought that she could be crushed under more rubble made him stop long enough to ensure that at the very least, Hermione's broken body would be spared any further indignities. It seemed at first glance that the battle hadn't even come close to the caretaker's office a second time.

The moment he pushed the door open he heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman quietly sobbing. His heart jumped for a brief moment only to be replaced by the crushing reminder that there was no way possible that it could actually be the witch he wanted it to be. When he stepped across the threshold, the sobbing stopped in a startled gasp. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't witnessed it with his own eyes. Apparently there _was_ something that would break down the seemingly unflappable persona that Professor Minerva McGonagall worked tirelessly to achieve.

Neither of the two living inhabitants of the room rushed to speak. After a polite nod to his former professor, Fred took a seat in the empty chair next to hers. Both of them stared at the tiny broken body laid out on the desk in front of them. Professor McGonagall wiped the silent tears from her eyes with a handkerchief several times as Fred tried to swallow the emotion that consumed him. He wasn't sure how long they were in there before the witch spoke. It felt like hours, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes.

"Kingsley told me what happened when we had that short break. I wanted to come see her for myself, but there wasn't enough time. Not until it was all over."

Never had the professor that Fred secretly admired the most sounded so frail and so small. Hers was a personality that seemed to loom larger than life at times, especially when he'd been a young first year with an astounding aptitude for trouble. Needing some sort of human connection in that moment, Fred reached across the small space between them to gently squeeze the top of her hand. The simple gesture threatened to bring another sob out of the woman, but she didn't waste a moment gently patting his hand with her free one.

"I've lost many students over the years. Some of them from accidents or sickness or these damned wars. It never gets any easier. It… well, I'm not sure that I can handle another day like today."

He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.

"Please don't misunderstand me. I'm very relieved that you are all right. I just…"

"But you're also sad that Hermione is dead?"

She nodded. He knew that unless he was able to figure out some way to reverse what happened, he would have to spend the rest of his life assuring those who knew them both that it was all right that they were sad Hermione was gone even if it meant he lived. Maybe it was best that he just get his first experience with it over with as soon as possible. There would be plenty of people who would've rather he'd been killed instead of her. The heavy silence continued for another few minutes until Professor McGonagall could no longer contain herself.

"I'm so furious with myself. If you can believe it, I'd actually forgotten about the Time-Turner in my desk. So much has gone on in this castle over the last year that I couldn't spare a thought for the damned thing. I never should've told her where it was. If I'd known for one second that she might…"

"What? _You_ were the one that gave it to her?"

"I did not _give_ it to her. I merely informed her where she might be able to find it if she ever found herself in need of it again."

Fred had a number of questions about how and when Hermione had access to a Time-Turner, but it wasn't the time. Nothing would bring the witch back. Time travel was a tricky business under the best of circumstances. The weight of the broken Time-Turner around his neck felt heavy. Even if he was somehow able to get a hold of one that wasn't broken, that didn't mean that…

A thought came to him. If the Hermione that was _supposed_ to remain alive after he died wasn't able to get the Time-Turner out of Professor McGonagall's desk because she was dead, did that mean that there was a fully functioning one just up the stairs? Could he use it to go back in time to the moment that she rushed out of her hiding place to push him out of the way? If he could, he would make damn sure that he held her tightly until he was dead… like he was _supposed_ to be. Without giving it much thought, Fred jumped up to his feet.

"Where in your desk did you have the Time-Turner hidden, Professor?"

"There's a small compartment on the left side that can be opened by tapping on the desk. I'm not sure why…"

All at once it made sense to her why he was asking. She should've been excited, not horrified. There was still a chance that Hermione could be saved, wasn't there? It would mean his death, of course, but that didn't matter to him. He'd already been prepared.

"Mr. Weasley, come back. No, I don't think… _Fred_ , come back!"

Very little about time travel made a lot of sense to him even if he'd found it fascinating. He wasn't sure how going back in time with the yet-to-be-broken Time-Turner would work. Would he create some sort of time paradox? Or would he just be correcting one that had already been made? There were too many questions to answer and he'd never exactly been the sort of obsess over research. He'd been more the type to experiment instead. No matter what happened, he couldn't exactly make things _worse_ , could he?

Completely ignoring the shouts and pleas of the professor, Fred rushed from the office, glad to have some sort of purpose, something he could _do_. No one bothered him in his journey to his former Head of House's office. Just like the caretaker's, he could've made the familiar trek with his eyes closed. How many times had he been summoned to the room in his years as a student? Too many to count.

The echoing thought in his mind that everything would be all right, everything would be as it should be if he could just get the Time-Turner, kept him moving. He would worry about the consequences of his actions later when he held a very much alive Hermione in his grasp to keep her from running out to save his sorry arse. The moment may not last long, but at least he'd get to die with her in his arms. It would just be a shame that that would be the only time he ever got to hold her.

He was standing in front of Professor McGonagall's office long before he had any sort of plan. A sinking in his gut when he witnessed the shattered door threaten to be his undoing. There wasn't even any need for a password or a turn of the doorknob. He could simply step through the gaping hole in the wood. Fighting had been fierce in that corridor based on the scorch marks and rubble. Did it look like that when Hermione went inside to retrieve the Time-Turner or did something change in the timeline after her death? Deciding it didn't matter, he climbed through the damaged door.

A powerful curse must've been cast into the Professor's office. Every corner of the room was filled with utter devastation. Fred tried to ignore the continued churning in his stomach and the hammering in his ears. He couldn't allow himself to give up hope for even a moment. A pile of wreckage sat where the desk should've been. If he hadn't known it was a desk before he saw it in that condition, he wouldn't have been able to identify just what exactly it was. Suddenly fearful that he wouldn't find what he was looking for, he crossed the room to begin digging through the piles.

Using both his wand and his bare hands, it didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. Sand spilled onto the floor when he picked up the Time-Turner. Despite having the enormous power of taking a person through time, they were surprisingly fragile objects. Maybe if Professor McGonagall used protective charms on her desk it might've been spared. Fred squeezed the broken piece of rubbish in his hand so hard that he could feel the glass shards digging into his flesh. The pain didn't bother him. He almost welcomed it. Anything to keep from feeling numb.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Weasley. I tried to tell you that my office had been damaged, but you ran off so quickly."

Tears freely rolled down Professor McGonagall's face. She'd been so quiet that Fred didn't even know she was there until she spoke. Or maybe he'd been too preoccupied with his own thoughts to hear.

"It's broken." He let the Time-Turner, now smeared with his blood, drop to the floor. "I… I can't go back and save her."

Never before had he desired to be alone quite so much as he did in that moment. He wasn't sure he could bear to spend another moment in the castle without completely losing his mind. It was all too much. Ignoring the burning in his eyes. He stepped away from the rubble and headed back to the useless door.

"I want to go home. Will you tell my family, Professor?"

She nodded her head as she stepped out of his way. Perhaps it was cowardly to run away when there was still so much left to do, but Fred didn't give a damn. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. No one would miss him. Not if they knew where he'd gone. The thought of standing around with his family while they counted themselves fortunate to be alive was so unpalatable that he knew he'd only say something unforgivable or do something regrettable if he stayed.

Once more no one bothered him on his way back to the ground floor. Of course it helped that he knew all of the shortcuts and hidden passageways. Any time it even just appeared someone _might_ get near him, he ducked into another hiding place to avert the danger. When he made it to the grounds, he took advantage of the Anti-Apparation wards being down thanks to the battle to make his escape.

He hadn't been to the shop in several long weeks. Months really, if he wanted to get technical. Neither had George. The Weasleys had far too many enemies and it was dangerous to even be associated with them. Fred hoped there would never come another day he would be forced to run again. He hadn't liked it. Went entirely against his Gryffindor spirit.

Windows were broken and a few of the shelves were turned over on their side, but all things considered, it wasn't as catastrophic as he worried it would be. Maybe a couple of Death Eaters were annoyed when they didn't find the blood traitors inside and decided to take their frustrations out on harmless merchandise. Didn't matter. After all, it was only just _stuff_. Everything within could be mended or replaced. Not like the human beings that would never have the chance to come home again.

The flat upstairs appeared completely untouched. Just to be safe he cast a _Homenum Revelio_ to make certain he was indeed alone in the building. Only when he was certain he was did he allow himself to relax. War could make anyone paranoid. At least he could start to understand some of why Mad-Eye behaved like he did.

A sour smell greeted him in the kitchen. Fruit that had gone long past its expiration date still sat on the table where it had been left. Likely none of the food was fit to eat. Fred opened a cupboard to pull out something else he knew wouldn't have spoiled. Not even bothering with a glass, he took a deep swig of the fire whiskey straight from the bottle. It burned going down into his empty belly, but he welcomed the pain. Just like his hand still throbbing with pain, it helped to remind him that he was still living.

There weren't enough cleansing spells in the entire world to fully cleanse his body of Rookwood. He'd been able to ignore the foul state of his clothing while he was at Hogwarts, but every second that ticked by in the flat made him even more sensitive to the rank smell of death that still clung to him. The bastard didn't have the right to desecrate his home. Stripping every single stitch of clothing he had on, Fred banished the rubbish to the fireplace to immediately set them all on fire. He wanted no reminders of the monster who murdered Hermione.

Satisfied that his clothing was quickly turning into nothing but ash, he directed his steps to his bedroom and his own private bathroom inside. Each additional gulp of the fire whiskey helped him forget little by little what a fucked up day he'd had. Maybe if he got drunk enough he might even be able to close his eyes without seeing Hermione's broken body. It was almost too much to hope.

He stood under the stream of hot water for a very long time. Long after his skin turned all wrinkly and the room filled with steam. One of the greatest benefits of being a wizard was limitless hot water. With the added comfort of his own personal bottle of fire whiskey, he didn't see the reason to step out of the shower quickly. What did he have waiting for him? Endless nightmares? Never-ending guilt that he was alive when he shouldn't be? Anger that would eat him up from the inside? None of the options sounded like something he was anxious to endure. So he stayed underneath the water and drank until he could hardly stand.

It was only when he struggled to keep his eyes open that he knew he had to get out of the shower. What would be the point of surviving the war only to slip and crack his head open in his own bathroom? Hermione would never forgive him if she found out he'd inadvertently killed himself just hours after she sacrificed her life for his. So he turned off the taps, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped out onto the cold tile. The almost-empty bottle was still at his lips when he exited the steamy room.

He should've known that one of his brothers would be sitting on his bed waiting for him. After slipping out of the castle the way he did, it was only going to be a matter of time before they came searching. Though he wasn't surprised to see one of them there, he certainly was surprised by which one it turned out to be. Fred rolled his eyes.

"As you can see, Percy, I'm just fine. Run along back to Mum to tell her so."

"Mum didn't send me."

It had been his initial plan to just collapse into his bed naked, but based on the serious expression on his older brother's face, he knew that he wasn't going to leave until he was satisfied that he was all right. Sighing to himself, he opened a drawer to pull out pajamas. He had every intention of sleeping as long as his body would allow once he crawled under the covers. Maybe he would wake up to discover it had all been one terrible nightmare.

"Why are you here?"

"I was worried about you. I saw you leave the castle, but I couldn't catch up with you in time. Professor McGonagall told me a few minutes later that you'd gone home. I didn't think you should be alone right now."

"Even if that's exactly what I want?"

Percy had always been stubborn. He'd inherited it just like the rest of his siblings from the Prewett side of their family. Weasleys had their moments of stubbornness just like all people did, but the Prewetts somehow managed to make it into something of an art form. His older brother had also inherited the same determination. Ignoring Fred's petulant question, he continued as if he hadn't even spoken.

"I tried to find George. Thought he might be better received, but he must've slipped off somewhere to be alone with Angelina."

"Leave them alone. They deserve to find what happiness they can with each other after what we just went through."

He would never admit that he was jealous of his twin, but he was. Not because he had any lingering feelings for Angelina, of course. She was lovely and Fred had always admired her. No, he was envious that the witch he wanted would never be able to sneak off into a dark corner with him.

"How long have you been in love with Hermione?"

The question caught Fred completely off-guard. He wasn't even sure how to respond. Sighing yet again to himself, he sat down on the edge of the bed next to his brother. It was a simple question, was it not? Why then did the answer seem so complicated? Trusting that nothing he said in confidence to Percy would ever be revealed, he chose to be honest.

"I'm not sure. I know I wanted to kiss her when I was a seventh year. Maybe then? Or maybe I always have been. I don't know."

"Does Ron know?"

"Of course not! I've never told anyone and I certainly wouldn't start off by telling him. He's been mad about her for years."

"Not even George?"

He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak in that moment. Part of Fred was afraid to know what his twin brother would think of him if he knew that he'd been secretly in love with their younger brother's best friend and sort-of girlfriend for years. Because if he was completely honest, he knew _exactly_ the moment he fell in love with Hermione. It was the summer before his sixth year when they were at the Quidditch World Cup. When he and George and Ginny got separated from Ron and his friends, Fred had been frightened that something terrible would happen to them. Trouble seemed to follow Harry Potter wherever he went. It wasn't until he saw with his own eyes that Hermione was safe that Fred could breathe normally again. His heart still thumped too hard in his chest, but knowing that she was whole calmed him down. Even if he didn't recognize it at the time, that's when he fell for Hermione Granger.

Percy gently squeezed Fred's shoulder in a gesture of silent support. Both of them understood how unheard of it was for the two of them to share a secret that George didn't already know too. Even though they'd fought and gotten on each other's nerves for Fred's entire life, he never doubted that his older brother loved him. Likely that was exactly the reason that he'd been so hurt when Percy turned his back on their family, embarrassed to be a Weasley.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, brother. She was a remarkable witch. I always liked her."

"Yes, well, she wasn't _my_ loss, was she?"

An awkward silence fell between them again. Percy didn't want to admit that he was right. It was hardly appropriate for Fred to claim Hermione as his loss when they'd never been anything but friends who annoyed each other frequently. No, it was Ron who loved her and who _she_ loved back. She'd never shown any sort of romantic feelings for Fred and he'd paid very close attention to everything she said or did in his presence.

"You have a wonderful shop downstairs. Can't tell you how many times I stood out in the Alley wishing I could come inside. I've been so proud of you both. I've always admired you two."

Fred furrowed his brow and stared at his brother with slightly narrowed eyes. _That_ was something he never expected to hear from his stuffy, rules-obsessed Head Boy elder brother. Uncomfortable with the scrutiny or possibly with his own honesty, Percy cleared his throat.

"My girlfriend's actually come in here a few times to buy products she thought I would appreciate. They've all been truly inspired. I can't wait to see what else you have."

"Your _girlfriend_?"

It had been no secret that Penelope Clearwater broke off their relationship during Percy's first stressful year working at the Ministry. Fred always suspected that the poor witch wanted more in her life than endless talk about cauldron bottom thickness. Not that he blamed her. He was curious to know who would be so thoughtful to smuggle their products to their estranged brother.

"Her name is Audrey. I think you'll really like her. She's… _special_."

Envy swirled around in Fred's blood. Immediately he felt guilty. He should've been feeling happy for Percy, not jealous. Sensing that he may have said too much, Percy stood up from the bed. Neither one of them could hide their repeated yawns.

"Are you going to be all right if I leave? I need to check on her. She's probably worried."

"Perce, the moment you leave, I'm crawling into this bed and staying there as long as I possibly can."

"All right. I'll go then."

His brother wasn't even one step out the door before he turned back around to ask Fred again if he was going to be all right. It took another assurance that he was going to be fine by himself before Percy would finally leave. Just as Fred promised, thanks to the combination of the alcohol and the exertions of the final battle, he was asleep only moments after he laid his head down. Mercifully, he remembered none of his dreams.

* * *

If Fred never had to attend another funeral for as long as he lived, he would die a happy man. For days after Lord Voldemort died, all of the innocent people he had a hand in murdering were laid to rest. As much as he didn't wish to go to each and every funeral, he felt an obligation, a guilt that he must. Out of respect for their sacrifices, he attended each and every one of them with his family and most of the surviving members of the Order.

Whether by design to torment him or entirely on accident, Hermione's funeral was the very last. There'd been a short delay as Harry insisted that her parents be found so they had the opportunity to lay their own daughter to rest. Several days of searching by some of the best Ministry officials yielded no results. Hermione had been very thorough in her plan to protect her parents. Though he was unhappy about it, Harry was forced to go ahead with her funeral without the Grangers.

It had been a relatively simple ceremony, but Fred thought that it was appropriate. Somehow, maybe because he was indeed the 'Chosen One', Harry was able to get the burial plot right next to his parents in Godric's Hollow. He never wanted Hermione to be alone even in death. It was a wonderful sentiment that made Fred's stomach twist and turn each time he remembered the fact that she _shouldn't_ have been dead at all.

Never was he more thankful to return to his childhood home than after the end of the funeral. His mother insisted on serving a large meal to all of their closest friends. It was meant as a kindness, as a way that they could all remember their lost loved one in happier times. Ron spent the day moving around like some kind of lost puppy. By all accounts and appearances, he wasn't handling her death well. Not that Fred could blame him. He understood.

When he could no longer stand in the Burrow listening to another story about the witch who should've been alive, Fred escaped to the back garden. It had been tempting to drown himself in fire whiskey, but out of respect for both his mother and Hermione, he remained sober. He settled down on a neglected bench near his father's shed to catch his breath.

Funerals were the symbolic end to a person's existence. It was one more reminder that Hermione was gone and it was all his fault. He wasn't sure he would ever forgive her for what she did. What might have seemed like a kindness was anything but.

Just as he was about to fall further into his wallowing, he was startled by the sudden appearance of a large, squashed face cat jumping onto the bench next to him. Realizing it was Crookshanks, he couldn't help but laugh. No one had seen him since before Bill and Fleur's wedding. He'd assumed that the half-Kneazle had simply been a victim of some hateful Death Eater's spell in the chaos. Ginny searched for the damned cat for days after the three of them disappeared. Fred had even helped a couple of times with no success.

Acting as if he belonged right where he sat and nothing was out of the ordinary, the cat stared at Fred with an expression he didn't understand. He reached over to pet the animal, pleased when Crookshanks began to purr and rub his body against him. The cat had lost weight since he was last seen. Though evidently a capable hunter able to keep himself fed, he'd lost the look of the overfed house-cat he once had when his beloved owner insisted on passing him treats at every turn.

"Sirius always said you were an intelligent animal. Do you know she's gone too?"

Crookshanks stopped his purring, but climbed into Fred's lap to rub his head against his chest. He didn't have to be an animal expert to know that he was well aware of why everyone was gathered there. For a reason he couldn't explain, it meant a great deal to Fred that the cat sought _him_ out. Did he sense a kindred spirit? They sat in silence for a long time with Fred's hand never ceasing its petting of Crookshank's fur. When he couldn't bear to stay there another moment, he carefully pushed the cat off his lap and stood.

"I'm going home. I'll go mad if I stay here. I miss her too much to listen to another story about her."

He was only a few steps away when he felt Crookshanks rub against his leg. It made him smile. In his haste to leave he hadn't even noticed the cat jump off the bench. He walked a few more steps with the same result. Each time he tried to leave, Crookshanks weaved in and out of his legs, rubbing his side and his head against him. Finally, Fred picked the cat up and stared him in the face.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

Crookshanks' renewed purring was the only answer he needed.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Author's Note_** ** _: Be sure you're reading closely enough to recognize the jump in time!_**

 ** _And as always, even though I don't like them much, I have a fancast album on my Tumblr. Canimallow dot Tumblr dot Com slash Fancasts_**

 ** _For those of you worried about Hermione, never you fear. All is not lost. Just a little more patience please. Also, the title of the story is a rather big clue. ;)_**

* * *

Chapter Four

An insistent pawing at Fred's exposed neck combined with a heavy pressure on his chest woke him up out of a sound sleep. Lie-ins, apparently, were a thing of his past. Knowing that there was no reason to get angry at what was undoubtedly a form of feline affection, he could only laugh. The immediate loud purring in his ear as his adopted half-Kneazle rubbed his head against his cheek was his reward.

" _Every_ morning, Crooks? You have to wake me up this way _every_ morning?"

Pushing the persistent cat away and attempting to go back to sleep would be a fruitless endeavor. That lesson was learned on the very first morning Hermione's cat lived in the flat. And then when Fred tried to push him away on the second morning, he learned the valuable lesson that the cat wouldn't be moved. When Crookshanks wanted his breakfast, he _got_ his breakfast. Satisfied that Fred was about to do his bidding, Crookshanks hopped off of the bed to make his way to the kitchen.

It didn't take the cat long to settle in comfortably to the flat above the shop the day of Hermione's funeral. When George came home to find the newest resident happily purring in his favorite armchair, he'd been surprised, but he never once complained. Maybe he could sense how much his twin needed his new companion after the hell that had been their life for so many months. There was a real fear that once Harry or Ron found out that the cat was found that one of them would demand he hand Crookshanks over to their possession. To his immense relief, Hermione's best friends were relieved that the cat was all right and pleased that Fred wanted to take care of him. No mention was ever made of taking him away.

Fred slid the bedcovers off of his still tired body. Sleep was rarely very restful for him. He could hardly remember a time in his life when he could fall asleep and stay asleep through an entire night. His mind was too active to provide him with much relaxation unless he resorted to sleeping potions or too much fire whiskey. Even then his dreams were vivid and disturbing.

Crookshanks led the way down the corridor towards his bowl in the kitchen. Every few steps he would turn around to meow an encouragement to Fred to speed up. The creature grew ever more impatient in his old age. Fred didn't mind in the slightest. He was a constant source of amusement and even comfort. His company was highly valued by the wizard, especially with the flat so empty after George decided to settle down and get married. Angelina didn't believe the flat above the shop would make a suitable home for the family they hoped to have. Hardly the most family-friendly of homes, there was always a danger of an explosion or a heavy shelf full of merchandise toppling over. His sister-in-law didn't like the idea of their children being in the shop so often. She also desired a home with fresh air and lots of room to fly. Not that Fred could blame her. She was absolutely right.

But, it did make for a lonely home. Almost as soon as the discouraging thoughts about his own loneliness popped into his head, Fred pushed them away. What right did he have to wish for more than he already had? He was supposed to be dead. He had much more than he deserved at too high a cost. The weight of the broken time turner around his neck only drove that point further home. Marriage and children were simply not in the cards for him. How could he possibly love his family as they should have been loved all the while knowing that they only existed because of a sacrifice he never wanted made?

Passing by the empty bedroom where his brother used to sleep was another reminder that the world went on around him while he felt like he was standing still. Everyone in his life moved on in their own way from the war, but Fred was stuck. His siblings were all starting their own families. Except for Charlie, of course. He admired his older brother for always taking his own path damned what anyone else thought. If he could have have half the self-assuredness that Charlie possessed, he might just make it another hundred years or so above ground without going completely mad.

Mornings always made him a bit maudlin, especially the mornings he woke up alone. Unfortunately, _most_ mornings were that way. There had been women in his flat before of course, but they rarely stayed long and almost never came back for another visit. Few wanted to take on the monumental task of chipping away at the icy exterior he'd allowed to form all around him. The carefree wizard so quick to laugh he'd once been died in the war. Hermione sacrificed her life for an empty shell.

Fred wasn't surprised to see his older brother sitting at the kitchen table flipping through the morning's Daily Prophet. Clearly comfortable with making himself at home in the flat without an invitation, Percy sipped at a cup of tea, only glancing up from the paper at the end of the article. His visits sometimes amused Fred, even if he knew they usually came with a lecture about taking better care of himself or an admonishment that he'd been isolating himself too much. His brother had an annoying way of inviting himself over when he was worried about him. It might have been endearing if it wasn't also terribly frustrating.

"Good morning, Perce. I've been considering changing the wards so you have to knock like normal people."

It wasn't the first time he'd made the same empty threat. Nor was it likely to be the last. While he would never admit it out loud, there was a certain comfort knowing his brother might pop in at any time. It helped him not feel forgotten. Sometimes he felt like the rest of his family was frustrated with him for not bouncing immediately back to his old self when the war ended. He wasn't the same person he was before he died. The chances of ever being the same carefree, mischievous prankster seemed slim. As much as he knew even his twin brother struggled to relate to the person he'd morphed into, Fred wasn't about to pretend to be someone he wasn't. Only Percy seemed to understand.

"I just wanted to make sure you were going to be all right tonight."

Fred didn't even try to hide his heavy sigh. As he poured food into the cantankerous cat's bowl, he tried to think of a suitable response. Finding none, he tried to pretend he was unbothered.

"Why would I not be all right tonight?"

Percy's single raised eyebrow was another annoying reminder that Fred wasn't as capable of hiding his true feelings as he wished he was. Biting back another sigh, he helped himself to a cup of his own tea brewed by his brother. Knowing he could be completely open with his brother about almost anything, he asked the question that had been eating at him for days.

"You don't think they're rushing into this, do you?"

Another raised eyebrow. He felt like a fool and just knew Percy was about to confirm it.

"You can't be serious, Fred. They've been together for three years and engaged for almost two."

"But maybe he rushed into dating again?"

"Fred, he waited _five_ years before he even asked her out. Surely that was long enough."

As much as he might've wanted to argue, he knew his brother was right. Just because he'd been unable to move on with his own life didn't mean that everyone else should be the same. Life had to keep going. The world couldn't just stop.

"Speaking of dating…"

Fred closed his eyes, preparing himself for the obnoxious question he knew Percy was going to ask. If it was the one he suspected it was, George had only just asked him the same the day before.  
"… when was the last time you had a date?"

He knew his brother's concern came only from a place of love and concern, but that didn't make it any easier. It was an old argument that he'd been having for years with each one of his siblings at various times. Once Charlie even accused him of becoming the maiden aunt content to grow old alone with her cat. He might've punched his brother if he didn't see his point. And if he didn't want Charlie to punch him back.

"Audrey's cousin will be there tonight. She's a friend of the bride. I think they were in the same House."

"They were."

"You remember her?"

"Of course I remember her. Audrey worked very hard three Christmases ago to make sure she and I never got very far from the other. Your wife should've been a Slytherin. I half-expected her to force us under enchanted mistletoe."

Percy chuckled.

"Don't give her any ideas. She might try it if she thought it would work."

The Christmas in question _had_ been fairly enjoyable. Even a grinch like Fred had to concede that. Convinced to hand over the responsibility of hosting the entire Weasley family for Christmas dinner to her daughter-in-law, their mother had been unusually calm. Without the usual pressures of such a large gathering that only grew larger every single year, there hadn't been any emotional outbursts from Molly marring the occasion. She'd enjoyed it so much that each of the married children offered to host the event in turn from then on. Everyone was agreeable.

Because they were the only two single people present, Audrey made certain that Fred paired off with her younger cousin as early as possible. It hadn't been a hardship to his surprise. She was kind and friendly behind her shy exterior. Even quite funny when she felt more comfortable and she'd had a couple of glasses of wine. Only remembering her vaguely from Hogwarts, he hadn't experienced the same schoolyard rivalry that Ron and Harry had. Most of the old prejudices were gone following the war, or at least not quite so obvious and rampant, but it had still taken some time for everyone to warm up to the new arrival. Fred couldn't remember why. It was hard to keep track of the younger students when he'd been in the castle. By the end of the evening, they were all acting just like old friends.

He was still embarrassed to remember how he acted when she harmlessly asked him before she left if they could see each other again, preferably without such a large crowd. It wasn't her fault he was in love with a ghost. As much as he tried to move on from the loss of Hermione so many years earlier, he hadn't been successful,. It wasn't fair to anyone to pretend otherwise. She deserved to spend time with a wizard worthy of her company. Fred wasn't it. He tried to be as polite as possible when he made his excuses why it was not a good idea to see each other again. It still made for an awkward encounter. He was glad that he'd been able to avoid her since.

"You _will_ be there this evening, won't you?"

Percy's question distracted Fred from his thoughts of how awkward the evening might become if Audrey tried her matchmaking again. Even though he would've rather avoided the Weasley family's most recent joyous celebration, he knew it wasn't fair to his little brother. Sighing, he nodded his head. It might be painful, but he would be there. At least he could be sure there would be alcohol flowing freely to help numb him through the night.

"He was disappointed that you weren't at the Hog's Head the other night."

It hadn't exactly been his intention to skip out on Ron's stag night. He'd planned on being there with a smile on his face ready to celebrate his brother's impending marriage. It was a happy time and didn't they all deserve a bit of fun? War made them into old men before their time. They should be free to let themselves go. As he closed up the shop before going to Hogsmeade, he felt a choking sadness that he couldn't shake. No amount of fire whiskey in the shower could loosen the darkness' grip. Not wishing to cast a shadow on his brother's symbolic last night of freedom, he chose to remain home. It wasn't as if he made for good company anyway.

"I had a lot of work to do," he lied. "Didn't think I would be missed."

"Well, you were."

"You're taking the responsibilities of being best man awfully serious for someone who didn't actually get the job."

It was a low blow and Fred knew it. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Why was he always so damned quick to alienate his loved ones? It was an aspect of his personality that formed after the war that he didn't much care for. Percy deserved an apology, but he didn't want to further embarrass his brother by offering one.

Being a best man in one of his brothers' weddings was a bit of a sore spot for Percy. He would never admit it because of his pride, but Fred knew. With a total of six brothers, especially considering how close the Weasleys were, it would seem to make sense that each one had the opportunity to stand up as a best man at least once. Bill chose Charlie, George naturally chose his twin brother, and Percy asked Ron. While it might have seemed an odd choice to someone outside of the family who rarely saw Percy and Ron together, it made sense. As children they were always paired together. The two eldest were inseparable and the two twins rarely left the other's side when they were young. Percy had always had trouble making and cultivating close friendships. It hadn't been a surprise when he asked Ron to be his best man. When Ron asked Harry to be his, the first Weasley brother to ask outside of the family, it must have been painful for Percy. Certainly not unexpected, but still painful. Percy often felt like an outsider in his own family. It was a feeling Fred could finally understand.

"Mum will come looking for you if you're not there."

Fred chuckled. He knew that to be a fact. No matter how old he grew, he had a feeling he would always have a healthy fear of his mother.

"I've already placed a notice on the shop door that we will be closing early."

Most of the tension that crept into the room after Fred's remark lifted. Percy stood up from the table and after banishing his teacup to the sink, clapped his brother on the back.

"Excellent. Audrey will be pleased to hear that. I'm sure she will insist that you sit with us."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Neither brother believed the lie that fell readily from his lips. Percy didn't push him. Moments later he was out the door leaving Fred alone once more.

* * *

He spent all morning trying to forget about the evening's festivities. Working in the shop on a busy Saturday in the summer helped to keep his mind occupied. George rarely worked the weekends if he could help it to be able to spend time with his wife and young son. Fred didn't mind. He enjoyed the fast rhythm of the shop when it bustled with excited customers clamoring for more of the products they'd designed.

Weasleys Wizard Wheezes was a far grander success than anyone could have imagined. Not even the twins. When they were creating fake wands in their bedrooms or filling orders out of Aunt Muriel's back bedroom window, they never anticipated what prosperity the end of the war would bring. Though it had taken some time for everyone to come out of the fog that fell over their country during that dark period, eventually most were eager to move on to happier days. Students at the reopened Hogwarts were desperate for their products despite the permanent ban on them within the castle walls thanks to Argus Filch's eternal grudge against the former troublemakers. It was up to them to get more creative with their methods of sneaking them in.

Work kept Fred busy. Everyone who cared about him said he did too much of it and he couldn't exactly argue with them. When he was able to focus on a problem or when he was experimenting or even when he was simply running the till at the front counter, he could keep his mind away from the depressing subjects that always seemed to drag him down. He _knew_ he'd grown too self-pitying, too morose. The fire whiskey that he thought he did a good job at hiding didn't help matters either. It only increased the problem.

Eight entire years had gone by since the day he died and he still felt like he was going to wake up from a bad dream. What should have been a reason for him to be thankful and grateful only made him bitter and angry. His life was a waste. He would never feel worthy of the sacrifice that Hermione made during the final battle. In the beginning, everyone understood. They were patient with him when he drew into himself. As time progressed and it seemed like everyone else was moving on with their lives, his loved ones became less sympathetic. None of them could understand why he wasn't bouncing back to the person he'd been before the nightmare of the war. Where was the lovable, goofy, prankster always getting into trouble? Not even his twin understood the change.

Percy was sometimes the only member of his large family that could understand him. Or at least, he was sometimes the only person who didn't get frustrated with him and demand that he change. He was more patient than all the rest of them put together. Maybe it was because he was the only person he ever admitted to loving Hermione. That was a secret he didn't dare share with anyone else. They wouldn't understand. Or maybe they would and he wasn't sure he could stand the pity.

Turning the lock on the shop's front door filled Fred's stomach with dread. Missing Ron's stag night had been a petty, rude gesture on his part. He should've forced himself to go and pretend to have a good time. It was always possible that he might have even been able to find some enjoyment in the evening. Sometimes he ended up having fun entirely on accident. It had a tendency to sneak up on him when he least expected it. Not going to Ron's big night was pure cowardice. His brother deserved better than that.

Dressed in his finest dress robes and desperately wishing he'd slipped a flask of fire whiskey into his pocket, Fred Apparated to the front gates of the Parkinson family's estate just a few minutes before the ceremony was set to begin. He knew arriving late would be unspeakably rude and something that his mother would never let him live down. But if he was able to slip into a seat in the back just moments before the processional began, who could be angry?

Most of the guests were already seated when he arrived. To his great relief there was an empty seat on the back row far from any of the familiar redheads he was trying to avoid. A pretty brunette with a shy smile moved over just enough to let Fred squeeze in next to her. She seemed familiar, but wizarding society was such a small world that he probably had already met her at least once. Likely they were even at Hogwarts at the same time.

There was little time to think more about the witch. A nervous-looking Ron stepped in front of the gathered guests with a chuckling Harry just behind him. His little brother was dressed fashionably just as usual. Thanks to a childhood of hand-me-downs and ghastly dress robes that had been out of style for decades, as soon as Ron could afford to purchase his own clothes, he made a great deal of effort to look like one of the model wizards in the fashion magazines Fred never read. Clearly, it helped him find a bride from a family just as old as the Weasleys.

The first time Ron brought Pansy Parkinson to the Burrow for a family dinner, everyone thought that he was playing an elaborate prank. Perhaps Miss Parkinson owed him a favor and he thought pretending they were dating would be amusing. The joke was on all of them. One of the Slytherin girls that used to make his younger brother's and his friends' lives miserable was indeed Ron's girlfriend. How they were able to put aside their childish differences to become friends and eventually fall in love wasn't clear to Fred. He knew that there was a story there, but he wasn't that interested. If Pansy made his brother happy and she treated him as a loving wife should, he would trust his brother to make up his own mind about the person he wanted to spend his life with. Some of the other Weasleys, including his sister, had a much more combative attitude to the match in the beginning.

Because it was their only daughter's wedding, the Parkinsons spared no expense. More ostentatious than Fred cared for, he was glad that his brother would have a memorable wedding. No doubt the photos would grace the Society section of the newspaper the next morning. Ron, always eclipsed by his older brothers throughout childhood and then by his famous best friend, enjoyed his time in the spotlight. Cynically Fred hoped his relationship with Pansy wasn't just about gaining more notoriety. They'd made headlines frequently over the years they'd been together. It didn't seem like the right reason to marry.

Fred shook his head, closed his eyes, and quietly sighed to himself. Why was he always so quick to assign the worst motives to his younger brother?

 _Because you're angry with him for being able to move on with his life when you haven't._

Of course that was the underlying truth behind his strained relationship with Ron. When the war was first over and the losses they suffered still fresh, he'd been able to bond with his brother. Never once admitting that he felt anything more than just friendship for Hermione, they were still able to grieve together. As time passed and he watched Ron begin to move on, he grew bitter. Why was it all right for Ron to forget the remarkable witch he claimed he'd been in love with for years whether he realized it or not? Fred couldn't imagine starting a relationship with another woman. How could his brother be so heartless? Did Hermione's memory mean so little?

"You cut your arrival rather close, didn't you, Fred?"

The soft whisper from the woman seated next to him tore Fred out of his worsening thoughts. Grateful for the temporary distraction, he rotated in his seat to look her in the face. Evidently she knew who he was. Was he _that_ wrapped up in his own mind that he couldn't put a name to her face or even remember where he'd last seen it before? Unaware of his difficulty in remembering who she was, the woman continued to tease him.

"Seems as if you are as unexcited about attending this dreadful thing as I am. I was half-tempted to create a mild emergency at work to keep from having to come."

"I thought about dropping fireworks into a lit cauldron. Can't blame me for not being here if I'm in St. Mungo's, can you?"

Her quiet chuckle brought a small smile to his lips entirely without his permission. His eyes lingered on her for longer than was probably considered polite. Not that he cared much for manners or social graces. He never really had. The prior eight years as he retreated further and further into himself, he cared even less. Blushing the lightest pink at the attention, she looked up ahead of their seats to the guests seated closer to the front.

"Uh oh. Looks like we've been spotted. Your mother and my cousin appear to be plotting."

Fred looked into the direction of her gaze. It didn't take him more than a moment to see his sister-in-law Audrey whispering with his mother. Both witches seemed positively delighted. He laughed under his breath, suddenly feeling like a fool. How could he not recognize her? Especially after Audrey was so intent on forcing them together at Christmas? Had he just not been paying that close attention or had three years apart changed her into someone unrecognizable?

"How have you been, Millicent?"

She could only reply with a bright smile before the music began in earnest announcing the arrival of the wedding party. Turning her attention away from him towards the main aisle in the middle of the white tent erected for the ceremony, it gave him the opportunity to study her closer without being too obvious. He had to give himself at least a little bit of forgiveness for not recognizing her immediately. The three and half years between their meetings had been kind to the young witch. Though he'd found her to be quite pretty at Christmas, she appeared to be the sort of woman that only grew more attractive with age.

Millicent Bulstrode hadn't been a popular witch at Hogwarts by any stretch of the imagination. Towering over most of the boys her own age and even some older, she always seemed as if she just didn't _fit_. Even as the pudginess of youth morphed into desirable womanly curves, few paid much attention to her in the castle. Part of that was due, of course, to her tendency to either disappear entirely into the background where no one could see her or allowing her own lack of self-confidence to manifest into terrible bullying behaviors that made her no friends outside of Slytherin House. Fred didn't know her at school. She was just one of the dozens of nameless younger students he rarely interacted with.

When she entered Percy and Audrey's house for Christmas, Ron, Harry, and Ginny had all been surprised. It was well-known that Audrey was related to the Bulstrodes and they'd seen the Slytherin witch at her cousin's wedding, but sitting next to the witch at the dining table was a much different affair than a large event with hundreds of guests. There had been tension in the beginning and uncertainty on everyone's parts. It was only the love that all of the Weasleys, including Harry, had come to have for Audrey that encouraged the youngest of them to put aside their uncomfortable memories of school to make her beloved cousin feel at home. Once they were all able to essentially start over as adults, Christmas dinner was a great deal of fun.

She was much prettier than any of them remembered. Growing up tended to have that effect on the lucky ones able to outlive their awkward phases. Her long, dark hair only emphasized her flawless creamy alabaster complexion. If she'd possessed one-tenth the self-confidence she had as an adult while at Hogwarts, the boys in the castle wouldn't have known what hit them. And Fred adored her delightfully naughty sense of humor. She made him laugh out loud many times that night to the surprise of everyone gathered. That was the reason why he knew he couldn't see her again when Christmas was over.

For the briefest of moments, Millicent made him forget about Hermione. He couldn't afford to let it happen again.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Fred wasn't sure if he should be grateful to his newest sister-in-law for opting for the most traditional and thereby _longest_ marriage ceremony or cross with her for the choice. On the one hand, the longer the vows and the binding spells, the more time he had to quietly admire Millicent and think about how he was going to get through an entire evening of her company without making a complete fool of himself. On the other, it meant prolonging the amount of time until he could swallow several glasses of Ogden's Finest and go home at the first possible moment without being considered _too_ impolite. He was at war within himself which would be better.

Weddings were frightful, terrible occasions. He'd never understood the reasoning behind guilting hundreds of your extended family members and old friends into attending a tedious ceremony for hours on end and then subjecting them to the awkwardness of a reception that was always intended to be fun, but somehow never ended up being so. It all seemed awfully selfish and self-absorbed. There were countless other tasks he would've preferred to complete within the same time: going to bed early, taking a long walk through the Forbidden Forest dressed in a suit made entirely out of meat, taking a hag on a romantic date to Muggle London. If the moment ever came when he had to think about his own wedding, a possibility that seemed highly unlikely, he wouldn't want to torture the ones he was supposed to love.

He did have to admit that as far as weddings went, Ron's wasn't the _worst_ he'd ever gone to. That honor went to Luna Lovegood who'd married the year before in the most bizarre, uncomfortable ceremony he could've ever imagined. Her husband Rolf seemed a nice enough chap. Fred felt bad that he'd been subjected to the strange ceremony, but remembered that love made fools of them all. Perhaps if Fred met the right woman he wouldn't mind having an elaborate wedding. She would have to be pretty amazing though and he just didn't see that happening. What sort of sane, rational woman would allow herself to love an empty shell like him?  
Each time Millicent shifted slightly in her chair, her arm brushed against his. Even though he knew she wasn't doing it on purpose, he felt annoyed. His thoughts betrayed him to what it might be like to ignore all of his reservations about the beautiful woman and take the next step. Her perfume was intoxicating his senses. Every breath he inhaled filled his nose with the scent. Why did the damn chairs have to be so close? How was a man supposed to keep his attention on the ceremony when his thoughts were consumed by the witch who would practically be sitting in his lap if she only moved just a tiny bit closer? It was maddening.

Weddings were by their very nature designed to confuse the poor lonely souls there alone and bewitch the lucky ones who believed they'd finally found their true love. Many a bed that night would be filled thanks to the temporary insanity that always seemed to follow. Even he'd been guilty of it before. When Rolf's American cousin invited him to join her for a drink after the bizarre wedding, he didn't dare refuse. He'd fallen under the spell just as so many others had before him. When it was all over and he regained his senses, he was embarrassed he'd ever dared to hope that maybe one day he could leave his black cloud behind to start a new life. The joy that permeated weddings turned him into a fool.

He wouldn't allow it to happen again. Even if he couldn't deny that it had been very easy and _fun_ to fall into the American's bed and he was quite curious what Millicent kept hidden beneath her dress robes, he had to keep his wits about him. Fire whiskey would be a terrible idea. As much as he desired a glass or four or five, Fred had to be careful. He didn't want to hurt anyone, including himself. Mixing alcohol with a wedding and loneliness was a recipe for disaster.

Just as he was beginning to wish he'd actually gone through with dropping a firework in his cauldron to avoid attending the wedding, the beautiful witch next to him moved again in her seat, accidentally brushing her forearm against the outside of his thigh. Innocently meant, it wasn't Millicent's fault that it made thoughts rush through his mind that were anything but. He wondered what she might think of him if he leaned over to whisper in her ear all of the depraved acts he desired to commit on her body. Would she be horrified or intrigued? His senses returned moments after fantasizing about laying her down on the edge of his bed and… No, she would definitely be horrified.

He despised his own weaknesses. It had been a long time since he felt the urge around a woman to set aside his constant brooding moods to steal a few minutes' pleasure. Millicent deserved better than the likes of him. All he knew how to do was selfishly take what was offered with little thought of the woman. There had been numerous hurt feelings where he was concerned over the years. It was easier to remain alone and closed off from the rest of the world.

A small voice in the back of his mind called him an idiot. He almost laughed. Was he truly considering spending the rest of his life denying himself love and the possibility for true happiness? What a wasted life that would be. Though he hadn't been able to understand in eight years _why_ Hermione willingly sacrificed herself for him, he doubted she would be pleased with how he'd chosen to live his life. He imagined she would have far worse names for him than 'idiot' if she could talk to him. Maybe Percy was right all of those times he told his younger brother that Hermione would want him to move forward with his life to find happiness.

Or maybe he was too quick to allow the magic of the wedding ceremony to addle his senses. Fred exhaled and tried very hard to ignore the urge to run his fingers through Millicent's dark brown hair. Clearly he was going to have to be even more careful around the witch if he wanted to spare her from the pain and humiliation that always plagued him. She was too lovely to be dragged into his world.

A great cheer sounded all around him from the gathered guests when the happy couple were _finally_ announced to be married. Startled out of his thoughts, Fred tried to hide his discomfort with a bright smile and enthusiastic clapping. Perhaps he'd been a little too exuberant. Millicent caught his eye with a cheeky grin that made him forget all of his worries long enough to imagine what her lips against his would feel like.

"Beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?"

He recognized forced small talk when it was offered, but was glad to see that Millicent didn't scurry away from him the second Ron and Pansy exited the tent. Other guests around them started moving. Because of the threat of a heavy downpour as the evening wore on, the reception was to be held inside the Parkinson family home. There was always a mad dash to the bar and the food when long, tedious ceremonies were finished.

"Yes, very beautiful."

Her laugh reminded him of the Christmas years earlier when he'd told her several jokes. It had been a long time since he felt up to trying to be carefree and a poor shadow of his former self, but the promise of hearing the sound of her laughter again was a big encouragement. He was such a fool.

"You have to be kind since Pansy is your new sister, but I have the freedom to say whatever I wish."

With another cheeky grin on her full lips, Millicent leaned closer to speak softly in his ear. What the remaining guests might have thought of their heads huddled so close together didn't bother Fred. He could almost forget anyone else in the world existed in his desire to hear what she had to say. The thought that she was close enough to kiss also didn't concern him.

"Pansy's always wanted to be the center of attention. No surprise she would pick the _longest_ possible ceremony so we'd all be forced to stare at her even longer."

Quite against his wishes, he smiled and bit back a laugh. A truer observation of his new sister-in-law had never been made. As much as he'd come to like Pansy and even care about her in the years since she started dating his brother, he knew he couldn't deny that she was possibly the _most_ self-absorbed person he'd ever met. How Ron could go from a witch like Hermione to Pansy was beyond his comprehension.

"You didn't really find the ceremony beautiful then, Millicent?"

"Oh, I did, but I couldn't imagine forcing everyone I care about to sit through such an ordeal and actually _like_ it. Even I'm not that cruel."

He couldn't explain why, but he felt the sudden urge to tease the woman. As he stood up to follow the rest of the guests inside the house, Fred offered his hand. She didn't hesitate to accept.

"And if this were _your_ wedding, Millicent, you wouldn't want everyone's eyes on you?"

"There's only one pair of eyes I'd want on me and I hope he'd be the one standing across from me."

The image of her standing in front of him in an elaborate white dress flashed across his mind. She would make a beautiful bride one day. A twisting in his stomach threatened to remove his smile, but sheer determination kept it affixed.

"Any man would be unable to keep his eyes off of you."

Fred dropped her hand and stepped away before he could say anything else. Ignoring the fact that he was being quite rude, he sped up to put some distance between them. His earlier promise to himself that he wouldn't drink more than a glass of Ogden's Finest was forgotten. He needed to find the bar immediately.

Several people attempted to catch his attention as he pressed through the crowd of wedding guests, but he was determined to ignore them for the present. He wasn't in the mood to splash a false smile on his face and pretend to be enjoying himself. Just the very thought exhausted him. He couldn't linger at the reception long without fear that he would lose his mind. How long would he be expected to remain without being chastised by his mother or his older brother Percy? Would Ron even notice he was gone if he escaped early?

No one stood in his way at the bar to his relief. He wasn't sure he could make the required small talk while he waited for a glass to be filled. Once he held the fire whiskey in his hand, he felt calmer. A few sips later, he almost thought he could make it through the entire evening. He knew that he shouldn't use alcohol as a crutch in social situations. It was a terrible habit that he needed to be very careful about. His desire to drink more and more increased with each passing year. It was harder to keep from indulging.

But he knew he could make an excuse just this one time. Especially after he made such a fool of himself in front of Millicent. He couldn't believe he'd just said what he had about her to her face. It was bad enough to think it, but to actually _say_ it? He was going to have to work extra hard to avoid her for the rest of the evening. There was no way to know what else he might say given the opportunity.

"I was glad to you see you weren't late."

Fred fought the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes and groan at Percy's statement. He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice his brother approach.

"Not really in the mood for a lecture."

"Who said I was going to lecture you? I have no intention of doing so."

Somehow Fred doubted his brother was telling the truth. While he might not _plan_ to lecture him, Percy had an uncanny ability to find some way in which to lecture his siblings regardless of the situation. Years of experience had given all of the Weasleys the ability to tune him out when they didn't want to listen. To Percy's credit, however, he was usually quite insightful when they spoke alone. At the very least there were certain topics that Fred could _only_ speak to Percy about.

"I just meant that I knew this evening would be hard enough for you without having to worry about Mum being angry with you. Audrey managed to slip her a couple of glasses of elf-made wine before the ceremony to keep her calm, but you know how anxious she can be."

Fred didn't have any reason to argue with his brother because they both knew he was correct. Their mother's issue with needing control had only gotten worse the older she got and the larger her family grew. While frustrating at times, Fred could understand. No one escaped the war undamaged. His mother tried to control everything she could because she never wanted to feel as out of control as she did during the war. Her children and their spouses learned to adapt and even try to help relieve her stress whenever they could. What she did was done out of love and fear.

"I'm fine, Percy. Stop worrying about me. You're getting to be worse than Mum."

Percy's initial response was to empty the entire glass he held in his hand in one deep swallow. Rarely one to drink to excess, it was enough out of his usual character to attract even Fred's attention. Was there something going on with his brother that he hadn't taken the time or effort to discover? Of course there was, he decided. He was often lost in his own head that he didn't pay attention to the others around him. Even large chunks of his own twin brother's life was passing him by as he continued to ignore everyone else.

"Something wrong with you, Percy?

He'd never been terribly adept at asking those sorts of questions in a way that wasn't awkward or made the other person feel even less comfortable. The passing years certainly hadn't improved his limited talents. A thorough look at his brother's countenance revealed dark circles under his eyes and deepening worry lines on his forehead. While he'd always been one to work too much, there seemed to be more there he hadn't noticed. Concerned, he started to follow up with another question, but was quickly interrupted.

"You and Millicent seemed awfully comfortable with each other. Are you about to make my wife a very happy woman and succumb to her lovely cousin's charms?"

Fred knew when it was futile to try to redirect the conversation to their previous topic. A lifetime as Percy's brother taught him when his brother wished to evade a subject there was no way to counter with much success. When Percy was ready to discuss what had him so agitated, he would open up. There was nothing that could speed that process along.

"Millicent is undeniably a lovely woman, but I'm sorry for Audrey's sake that there will be no future between us."

"Why? Because she's not Hermione?"

Amazed that his brother would be so blunt in such a crowded gathering, Fred quickly scanned the immediate area to see if they could be overheard. The last thing he needed that night was for his feelings for Hermione to become public news. It was Ron's wedding. He deserved to enjoy it free of painful reminders about his past.

"You're just wasting your life, Fred, pining away for someone you can never have. She's gone. Nothing you do could ever bring her back."

"I thought you said said you weren't going to lecture me."

"I suppose I lied." Percy accepted another glass of fire whiskey from the bar and tossed it back just like the previous. "You're being a fool, little brother. A complete and utter fool. Do you think _she_ would like to know how you've treated her sacrifice? How you've thrown away every chance you've been given to be happy and live a life with some actual meaning?"

Fred didn't want to listen to his brother even if he knew he needed to hear what he said. No, he didn't think Hermione would be pleased to know how he'd been living for the previous eight years. From the very day his life was spared at Hogwarts, he knew she'd made a terrible mistake. He wasn't worth saving. Hadn't he proved that over and over again in the years since? She should've just allowed him to die. Everyone would've been better off. He was nothing but a burden to all who remained.

"This is _not_ the time for us to have this discussion again, Percy. Think of Ron."

"Ahh, yes. We wouldn't want to ruin his big day, of course, but you can't keep running away from this. You can't keep denying yourself the tiniest bit of happiness because you feel guilty."

Alcohol turned his brother into someone he didn't care to be around. Usually so calm and put together, Percy's entire demeanor changed when he'd been drinking. It was one of the few times he exhibited more of the worst Weasley and Gryffindor traits. Fred didn't understand what was happening to his brother, but he knew he didn't like it and he was worried something was really wrong.  
"You should tell him. Tell Ron how you really felt about her."

"This isn't the time for that."

"Of course this isn't the time for that. I'm not an idiot. Tell him some day that's _not_ his wedding day. Unburden yourself to him. Maybe then you'll actually be able to forgive yourself enough to move on."

Percy didn't stay much longer after making his final point. Dropping the empty glass in his hand on the bar to pick up another full one, he rushed away to find his wife in the crush of guests swarming the manor house. Fred longed to make his own escape but knew he had to stay a little while longer to satisfy his mother and not cause his new sister-in-law to hate him. With his own glass of fire whiskey in his hand, he moved away from the bar.

His brother was out of sorts. It upset him when Percy wasn't acting like himself even if his usual self could be quite boring and long-winded. For eight years Percy had been a great source of comfort to him as the _only_ person he could be completely honest with. He'd relied on Percy perhaps a bit too often. Clearly he hadn't been as good a brother to Percy if there was something he couldn't tell him.

Fred's mind was packed with all sorts of worries and concerns. Not just about Percy, but about Millicent and Hermione and his past and his younger brother Ron. Was fear of what Ron would think of him if he confessed how much he loved Hermione the real reason why he couldn't move on? It did make sense. He'd been too afraid to tell Ron for many reasons. All of them had been completely selfish. Maybe Percy was right. He needed to come clean to move forward. That, of course, was something that would need to wait until his little brother was back from his honeymoon.

The family home of the Parkinson family was old-fashioned and several decades removed from its glory days. Though a proud family with excellent connections, they weren't a wealthy family by any stretch of the imagination. Pansy's great-grandfather was notorious for being something like what his mother would call a 'cad' who squandered his family's fortune on outrageous gambling debts and expensive wine. His son and grandson worked tirelessly to bring back both the family's respectability and rebuild its vault. They'd been somewhat successful with quite a lot left to do.

As a result, their home wasn't terribly comfortable and inviting. Fred didn't understand why Ron would be willing to give up his flat to occupy one of the wings of the cold manor with his new bride. As the only child, it was expected that Pansy remain to one day inherit everything, but that didn't mean they had to accept as newlyweds. He couldn't imagine wanting to live in such a cold place with outdated, dark furnishings. His little flat above the shop was infinitely more cozy.

Small, round tables covered in white tablecloths with ornate centerpieces were crammed in every nook and cranny that could be found throughout the once-stately rooms on the ground floor. It was his intention to find one tucked away in the back until he discovered everyone had been given an assigned seat. He sighed, frustrated that he couldn't even choose where he wanted to sit. Why did weddings have to be so damned formal? He'd almost enjoyed George's simple, casual wedding in the back garden of Angelina's parents' home. Even Luna's strange wedding was turning out to be more palatable than Ron's.

"Fred, over here!"

He wasn't surprised to hear Percy's wife's voice call out to him across the crowded room he'd wandered into. Audrey was a darling woman that he couldn't help loving even with her clumsy attempts at matchmaking. Just as Percy told him right after the battle when they talked about her for the first time, Fred _did_ like the witch his brother chose. They were a good match for each other. Where other women would find his brother's endless droning on about uninteresting topics boring, Audrey found him charming and amusing, but she always knew when it was time to stop her husband with a soft touch and harmless teasing. As the only person in existence who knew how to shut his brother up, she was readily accepted and loved by the entire Weasley family. She filled a place in their family that no one even realized was lacking.

It was too late to make a run for it when she started waving him over to her table. Under ordinary circumstances he wouldn't hesitate to seek her out in a large or small gathering. Audrey always found his latest products and experiments fascinating and because she didn't know him from before the war, she never expected him to try to be like the 'old Fred' again. She appreciated him for the person he was in that moment, not once disappointed that he wasn't like he was before. It was for that very reason that he enjoyed her company so much.

But once he saw her cousin seated next to her, Fred wanted to be just about anywhere else. He should've known he wouldn't be able to get away from Millicent, especially after he made a fool of himself in front of her. It was his curse in life to be forced to relive that moment over and over again.

"Pansy had you put at our table right next to Millie."

"Terribly convenient."

His sarcastic response was muttered under his breath, but the soft chuckle coming out of Millicent's mouth proved she heard it. He didn't know what to think. Given that he'd just run away from the woman with no warning and acted like a complete idiot, she should've been angry with him or at the very least annoyed.

"Thought it would be easy to get away from me, did you?"

Spoken in a whisper only he could hear in the noisy room, Fred openly stared at Millicent. Unsure what to say, he felt awkward until she laughed again and offered him a cheeky wink. He felt his lips quirk into a smile quite against his own will. The power she seemed to have over him confused and excited him.

"Now now, Fred, there was nothing _nefarious_ in Pansy's seating arrangements. She was kind to put Millie next to me and it made sense to put you next to her since you are both unattached."

Audrey could be as transparent as her mother-in-law at times. Neither of her dining companions contradicted her. There was no reason. They were all aware it had been a setup from the very beginning. No doubt Pansy had been a willing participant. Preparations for her wedding put her in an odd mood. She'd been overly concerned with Fred's non-existent love life just like the rest of the family. Perhaps because she was in love she wanted everyone else to be as well. She really was a strange woman. Fred didn't understand anything about her.

Knowing he was trapped with no possible escape, he sat down once again that evening next to Millicent. Maybe he'd even be able to enjoy himself. Each of the tables had their own collection of wine bottles for the guests to consume. With enough alcohol in his blood he could forget his desire to be anywhere else.

"Pansy's such a showoff. We all know her family can't afford all of this. They'll have to eat porridge and vegetable broth for a year."

" _Millicent_! That's such a horrible thing to say."

Unbothered by her older cousin's admonishment, Millicent smirked at Fred as she poured herself a glass of white.

"It's probably just Knockturn Alley rubbish with transfigured labels."

Despite himself he laughed. When she sipped at her glass and lifted a single bemused eyebrow and then immediately nodded her head in approval, he laughed again.

"Maybe Mr. Parkinson blackmailed Lucius Malfoy for a chance to raid his wine cellar. This is actually quite good."

"I can't believe you're saying such horrible things about a woman who is supposed to be your friend."

Millicent shrugged her shoulders.

"It's difficult to believe your friendship is real with someone who tells you they adore you in one breath and then tells you you've got a fat arse in the next."

"You don't have a fat arse."

It was as if his tongue had a mind of its own. Fred didn't mean to say anything. With wide eyes he looked at Millicent's face hoping she wasn't about to curse him or slap his face for his remark. It was hardly the sort of thing one said out loud. Her laughter proved she wasn't offended.

"I meant when we were back in school, but I'm glad to know you don't think my arse is fat."

Relieved, but still embarrassed, he suddenly found the water glass in front of his plate very interesting. Out of the corner of his eye he could tell Millicent was still looking at him with a smile. Even Audrey attempted to hide her own grin behind her napkin. Just as he worried one of the ladies would say something else to mortify him further, Percy collapsed into the seat next to his wife.

"I'm pleased you could _finally_ join us, Percy."

There was a bite to Audrey's voice Fred was certain he'd never heard before. Ordinarily she was bubbly and friendly, almost the exact opposite of her husband. It was evident to anyone who even just looked at the couple that though they seemed an odd fit, they were each deeply in love with the other. He didn't know what to make of the shift in her tone towards her husband.

"Did you see another _colleague_ you just _must_ speak to?"

"Darling, this isn't the time. We can discuss this when we get home."

At least some of the reason why Fred watched his brother drink so much in such a short time made a little more sense. Clearly something wasn't right between his brother and his wife. He was curious to know, but couldn't think of a way to ask that would be appropriate. Percy was private enough that he probably wouldn't even confide in his brother when they were alone.

In the end, it didn't matter. They were soon joined by Bill, George, and their two wives. The conversation quickly turned to less hostile topics. Angelina was only days away from delivering their second child. All of the Weasley women could talk of nothing else when they were together. Fred was grateful for the chance to sit back quietly without contributing to the discussion. When the food arrived, it was even easier to stay silent. He hoped more than anything that he could get through the rest of the ordeal without saying or doing something else stupid.

"Fred, did you know that Millicent is an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries?"

As the empty plates were being removed from the table and his mind was focused on when the wedding cake would be served, Fred was caught off-guard by Audrey's question. He'd been able to escape everyone's notice for most of the meal. It should have been obvious that she wasn't going to be deterred in her quest to matchmake. Audrey was a lot like her husband in her tenacity.

"Oh, no, I didn't realize that."

"Audrey, _stop_."

"Nonsense, Millie. It's something you should be proud of."

"My wife is right."

Audrey offered Percy her first smile since he sat down. There was still hope for them yet if Percy continued to agree with everything she said. Maybe the great thaw between them would happen even before they got home.

"Millie was a trainee when you last saw each other, but soon after she was promoted."

"Congratulations."

He wasn't sure if Millicent was laughing at the stiff manner in which he spoke or something else entirely. There was so much he didn't understand or know about the woman. For the first time in years, he was surprised to discover that he actually _wanted_ to learn more.

The conversation changed again until the moment the bride and groom shared their first dance. As close members of the family, their table was close enough to see the dance floor. Once again, just as she liked it, all eyes were on Pansy. All of the married couples were invited to join them a couple of songs later. Each of the married Weasley brothers escorted their wives across the table. Even Angelina assured an overprotective George that she would be all right for one dance. The second Fred realized he was alone again with Millicent he felt nervous.

"I'm sorry about my cousin. She means well, but she's not terribly subtle, is she?"

"No, she's not."

They shared a chuckle. Some of the tension Fred felt in his shoulders lifted. Part of him wondered if Percy wasn't at least somewhat correct that he wouldn't allow himself to try to find happiness when it was offered because of the incessant guilt he felt about loving Hermione and never telling Ron even years after her death when he'd begun to move on. Was it wrong to be interested in what might happen with Millicent if he allowed it?

"Audrey adores you. That's why she's so insistent that we would be good for each other. She believes I could help you not be so sad anymore."

Fearing she'd said too much, Millicent reached for one of the bottles on wine in the center of the table to refill her glass. Her words meant a lot to Fred even if he was a little embarrassed that everyone could tell how sad he was. He didn't doubt they were true. From the day he first met Audrey, he could tell she cared about him and wanted to be just like a sister to him.

"That's very kind of her, but I think you could do much better than me. Why are you still single, Millicent?"

She grimaced and immediately laughed.  
"Ugh, I _hate_ that question. It always feels like the real question someone wants to know when they ask it is, 'what's wrong with you that no one wants you'?"

"That's not what I meant at all."

He stammered over his words, hoping he hadn't offended her. It was never his intention to make her feel badly. He really just wondered how it was that some other wizard hadn't discovered her yet or why one might be foolish enough to let her go. The touch of her hand on his forearm was surprisingly comforting. He felt calmer.

"I'm only teasing, Fred."

"Oh."

"You're a bit out of practice, aren't you?"

He couldn't help but smile. There was no better description. While he had _encounters_ with women through the years, it was a long time since he'd actually liked a witch enough to want to see her more than once or even during the daytime.

"Maybe a little."

"It's adorable. But to answer your question, I work too much in a job I can't talk about. That tends to bother any potential mates. And, though I shouldn't admit it, I'm picky."

"Are you really?"

She laughed yet again. He liked the sound more each time he heard it.

"I am, sadly. I've only ever been interested in men who could make me laugh."

"That's not so unusual."

"And wizards who know how to play Quidditch."

"Lots of women prefer Quidditch players to non-Quidditch players."

"And to my greatest shame, I've only ever wanted Gryffindors."

Though he'd suspected she was teasing him from the beginning, her last remark coupled with more laughter only confirmed it.

"So you are only interested in Gryffindor Quidditch players who can make you laugh?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. It's always been that way and now that your brother is married to Pansy, my options are even fewer."

Fred made a dramatic show of rolling his eyes which only caused her to giggle. Too much laughter out of person usually made him uncomfortable since the war, but he was surprised to discover it had the opposite effect with Millicent.

"Did you know my brother Charlie can usually tell a decent joke?"

"I _didn't_ know that, but I'm afraid I have a very firm "no international portkey" requirement as well. If Charlie ever decides to move back, I'd be glad to get to know him better. He does have very nice arms after all."

It felt good being able to tease her and joke around. He felt younger, less burdened by the past in her presence. If he wasn't careful, he could get used to the feeling.

"Yes, I can see now why you're still single, Millicent. There aren't very many men like that still around."

An announcement was made that the dancing was open for everyone. Millicent rose to her feet pulling Fred up with her. She dragged him to the dance floor by the hand, not once giving him the chance to refuse.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Few evenings in Fred's life were more enjoyable than his little brother's wedding. Expecting the entire ordeal to be miserable and awkward, he was pleasantly surprised to have such a good time. Millicent was mostly responsible.

"Do you realize, Fred, that if we stick together all night long, we can avoid the dreaded questions about our love lives that stuffy, old people at weddings are always dying to ask?"

"I never thought about that."

"Well, I have and my grandmother is here. She wouldn't dare tell me she thinks I work too much if you and I spend the entire night dancing and laughing."

Whether she was serious or just being clever about making sure he didn't sulk in a dark corner wasn't clear. He discovered that it didn't take longer than a single dance to decide he didn't care. One dance led to another and then to another and another. They stopped long enough to take advantage of Mr. Parkinson's generosity with his best fire whiskey. Between the company and the pleasant warming in his stomach and bloodstream from the alcohol, the entire reception passed in a whirl.

She'd been correct about no one bothering them. Used to never-ending questions from his mother about when he would settle down with a nice witch, it had been a pleasant change to see his mum only watch him enjoy himself with a bright smile on her face. Not once did she interrupt them. She seemed overjoyed just to watch him laugh again. Even across the crowded room he could see the glint of unshed tears in her eyes. As much as he loathed making his mother cry, at least he knew they were happy tears. No doubt she held out hope that the son she used to have would return one day.

Moments after all of the clocks in the house struck midnight, the music stopped for the bride and groom to make their dramatic exit. Off to an expensive honeymoon at some wizarding resort on an exotic island somewhere in the Pacific, they both beamed with excitement. Fred couldn't help but be annoyed that the night was almost over. The thought of having to return to his empty flat depressed him more than it should. Hadn't he been anxious to leave for home the moment just arrived?

"Oh great. My favorite part. This is where all of us poor, pathetic spinsters are expected to make a fool of ourselves trying to catch the damned bouquet."

Even though she rolled her eyes as she said it, there was still laughter in her voice. Fred wasn't sure he'd ever met a Slytherin so quick to laugh. Maybe she was mis-Sorted. Or maybe he just didn't know that many Slytherins on a personal level. He generally tried to avoid them as much as possible during his Hogwarts days.

Despite claiming not liking the dreaded bouquet throw, Millicent didn't waste a second pushing her way to the front of the gathered single witches. Personally he always thought throwing the bouquet was a ridiculous tradition. Where did it start? Wizarding weddings were very different from Muggle weddings in a lot of ways, but there were several common traditions they shared. Did it all begin with some Muggle-Born bride centuries earlier? He'd seen several heated altercations between determined witches desperate to catch the bouquet and the resulting hope that they might not die alone. It was all rather sad if one really stopped to consider it.

Once all of the eligible ladies were assembled, Pansy tossed her bouquet behind her. While several of the women seemed poised for a struggle, there was no need. The flowers gracefully arched across the room straight into Millicent's waiting arms. It couldn't have been more perfectly aimed for her without the use of magic. She caught Fred's eye and winked.

Familiar laughter next to him caught his attention. Turning to look at his twin brother, Fred watched George hastily stow his wand back in his pocket. Magic _had_ been involved. Sometimes it felt as if years had passed since he last completed a proper prank with his twin. Perhaps it had. He was the first to admit that dying changed him entirely. If George tried to the same stunt any other time, Fred might not have been amused. Considering how much the pleasant company and the free-flowing alcohol improved his mood that evening, he leaned over to speak in his brother's ear.

"I saw that, you know."

George laughed again causing Fred to smile. They had never stopped being close since the end of the war, but there had been a shifting in their relationship that was hard to describe. As Fred was no longer the same person and neither really was anyone else who survived the war, it was impossible for them to be as they once were. George changed too. While there were moments together that felt like old times, they never lasted long.

"It wasn't my idea. I was merely following orders."

He nodded his head in Millicent's direction. Understanding it was a setup, Fred couldn't help but laugh.

"I should've been suspicious when she claimed she wanted to dance with you to 'see if twins danced the same way'."

"Slytherins are supposed to be cunning after all. She thought it would be funny. Something she could tease you about later."

He tried not to consider the significance of using the word 'later'. As much as he'd enjoyed spending the evening with Millicent, Fred tried very hard not to think too far into the future. One night didn't change a man. The very fact that he liked Millicent so much was the reason why he needed to not encourage her to think there could be more between them. She deserved much better than the likes of him. He wasn't worthy enough.

"I like her, Fred. _A lot_. She's good for you. Can't remember the last time I heard you laugh so much."

When George clapped his brother on the back, there was more left unsaid. Of all of the people in Fred's life who wished he would "return to normal", he knew his twin felt that way the most. Many times he tried to force his brother to "snap out" of whatever it was that changed him so much. With the war over and them finally given the chance to return to their normal lives, there was frustration that he wasn't able to move on and forget that he'd been dead. Several arguments erupted between them. While Fred never doubted his twin brother still loved him, their relationship had never been the same.

"Try not to push her away. You deserve to be happy, Freddie."

Nothing more could be said on that subject to Fred's relief. He didn't have the energy for another discussion that would lead inevitably to an argument. Especially not after what had been such a pleasant wedding. Before he could offer George any sort of suitable response, they were joined by Millicent triumphantly clutching Pansy's bouquet. The wink she shot at George as she approached did not go unnoticed by Fred. Privately he wondered if any of his other family members were complicit in the scheme to set the two of them up.

Ron and Pansy made a grand exit that was no doubt designed to ensure maximum attention paid to the newlyweds. It was expected that all of the guests line up outside to see them off. Fred didn't dare shrug off Millicent when she grabbed him by the hand to lead the way. He wasn't ready for the night to end, but he knew he couldn't prolong it much longer. Guests left in large numbers once the newest Mr. and Mrs. Weasley disappeared with their portkey.

"I had a lovely time with you tonight, Fred."

His stomach twisted. The moment he'd been dreading all evening long finally arrived. How could he make it clear that they couldn't see each other again without hurting her feelings or making her believe there was something wrong with her? He didn't want to ruin the almost perfect night on a sour note.

"I had a lovely time too…"

"But this is the part where you tell me that you're not looking for anything serious or that you're not in a place right now to even consider us seeing each other again."

She didn't seem upset as she spoke some of the excuses he had swirling in his head aloud. The corner of her mouth looked as if she was trying to prevent it from curling up into a smile. Had he been wrong? Was she feeling the same way about there not being anything between them in the future? He berated himself internally. He should've known. It was terribly self-centered of him to just assume that any woman who enjoyed the company of his presence for an evening was destined to fall madly in love with him. It was entirely possible and probably likely that she was trying to think of a way to discourage him from anything further. She'd made several mentions throughout the event that she knew their being pushed together was a clumsy attempt at matchmaking. He shouldn't have assumed that she wanted to see him again. If the roles were reversed, he couldn't imagine wanting to go out with him.

"Millicent…"

"We had fun. There's no reason to make more of this than necessary. We're both adults."

Part of him wanted to be completely honest with her about everything. How he liked her more than he thought he should, how he felt guilty because he was still in love with someone he could never be with, how he thought he would do nothing but bring her misery. The words were on the tip of his tongue. Wasn't it telling that she was the first woman he actually _wanted_ to be honest with? He scrambled around for something, _anything_ to say. Millicent continued speaking before he could.

"So, there's no reason to have the uncomfortable chat about what happens after tonight. We will keep tonight a pleasant memory."

She leaned closer, pressing her body against his in the process. He couldn't breathe. Ignoring the fact that there were likely Weasleys still watching them, he didn't move at all.

"But, you know, Fred… the night doesn't have to end right here."

"It doesn't?"

The cheeky grin that transformed her face was enough to get him to ignore all of the warning bells going off inside his head. He knew what weddings did to people. As a victim of their madness himself, he knew that it wouldn't take much effort to persuade the woman to give him an invitation back to her flat. Especially not with the gleam in her eye that seemed to all but say out loud that's exactly what she wanted to do.

"You told me earlier that if I ever wanted to pop by your shop, you'd give me the full tour. I'd like to see it."

"Right now?"

"Yes. That is, unless you're wanting to shake hands and say goodnight to each other right here."

That was the _last_ thing he wanted to do. While he didn't want to consider trying to cultivate a serious relationship with the charming woman, the thought of watching her walk away depressed him even more than the thought of spending the night alone had only hours earlier. He appreciated that she gave him the opportunity to walk away. Some women in his experience could be frightfully pushy. Once the store became very successful after the war, he knew that he was considered a 'catch' by those single women seeking out a successful husband with a full vault. More than a couple of those vultures had to be dealt with harshly over the years. Recognizing that Millicent was as far from being like one of those creatures as possible, he found he liked her even more.

"All right. If you're sure."

"I'm sure. I'd like to see your shop. Haven't been there in ages."

Sneaking out of the estate without saying their farewells to everyone in his family wasn't meant to be. Too many of the Weasleys were far too interested in what he was up to to allow them to leave without a word. And considering the fact that he didn't want to be bombarded with owls and Floo calls the next morning demanding to know what happened, he promised Millicent that he would show her the store if she could wait just a few minutes. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

"Say goodbye to your mother. She can't stop staring. I'll meet you outside your shop."

There was visible disappointment on Molly Weasley's face when she watched her son approach her moments after Millicent Disapparated away. Fred had to smile. He almost wanted to reassure his mother that all was not lost. There might even be some hope that their evening together would turn into another one.

As soon as he allowed that thought to cross his mind, Fred knew it was wrong. Hadn't they already discussed that there would be nothing beyond that night? Millicent didn't seem interested in a relationship. Was he wrong to encourage their meeting at his shop? For all he knew, it could be harmless. Maybe she really did want to just have a private tour of the shop. If it had been a while since she was last there, she might've been concerned she was missing out on something.

"You're an idiot, Fred."

"What was that, dear?"

He hadn't realized he said what he was thinking out loud. Shaking his head and assuring his mother that it was nothing, he offered her a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek. Hoping that that was enough, he started to walk away to say goodbye to the rest of his family. His mother grasped his arm.

"It's so wonderful to hear you laugh again."

To Molly Weasley's credit, she didn't press any further. Nor did she ask any questions. Gently patting his cheek, she smiled at him with tears in her eyes. His father broke the solemn mood between them only a few seconds later.

By the time Fred was able to make it through the gates of the Parkinson family's estate after saying his farewells to the family members still present, he was certain he was making a huge mistake with Millicent. What did she expect from him? The more he thought, the more he realized it was absolutely ridiculous to assume that she wanted nothing more than a private tour of the shop. How could he delude himself into thinking that was so? If she just wanted to see the shop, she would've dropped in some day during regular business hours. A witch didn't ask for a tour after midnight for _innocent_ reasons.

Just as she promised she would be, Millicent stood outside the front door to his shop waiting for him. Diagon Alley was deserted, almost completely dark with the exception of a few lights left overnight. It was his favorite time of the day to be on the Alley. Many nights when he needed to clear his head or he had trouble sleeping, he would walk up and down the Alley alone in the near dark. Years of peace meant that most places where relatively safe. He could wander for hours without fear that he would run into someone who wished to harm him.

Seeing the beautiful witch waiting for him made Fred worry anew that he was making a mistake. He liked the woman a great deal. That seemed all the more reason why he should've just shook her hand back at the wedding and wished her a good evening. The possibility, even _probability_ , that one or both of them would come to regret the decision they made that night under the influence of alcohol, loneliness, and the lingering magic of the wedding was quite high.

"I was starting to get worried that you'd changed your mind."

Even though he could tell she was teasing him, there was a note of truth in her voice that he couldn't ignore. Perhaps she was feeling the same way that he was, worried that she shouldn't be there, worried that they were on the verge of making a mistake they could never walk away from. Fred offered her a warm smile despite his own misgivings.

"You forget I have a large family, Millicent. Couldn't exactly say goodnight to one without saying it to all of them."

His hand trembled as he cast the unlocking spell on the door. Hoping that she wasn't able to see it in the dim light, he tried to speed up the process. To his embarrassment, before he could open the door, he dropped his wand. A soft chuckle just behind him only made him feel even more foolish. If he was so nervous to be alone with Millicent that he couldn't even get the front door open, she was likely going to be terribly disappointed more than once that night.

Somehow he was able to keep his composure long enough to pick his wand off the ground and unlock the door. Every second he was aware of her standing behind him he grew more nervous. What if he was making a terrible mistake that he couldn't escape? Once inside the dark and empty shop, he was sure his heart was pounding loud enough for Millicent to hear.

"Fred…"

Her voice calmed him down only slightly. Reaching across the short distance between them, she grabbed his empty hand. He worried that she could tell how nervous he was. If she could, she didn't say so. She only squeezed his hand.

"Maybe I was being too forward back at the wedding. If you would like me to leave…"

"No!"

His insistence surprised them both. Even with the fears swirling around his troubled mind that he was about to make a huge error, he didn't want her to go anywhere. With an amused smile on her face, Millicent gently brushed her lips against his. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to lessen the hammering in his chest. She released his hand and stepped back to look around the shop.

"I haven't actually been inside this shop since the war. Can't really believe it's been that long."

"Yes, well, but an important Unspeakable like yourself doesn't have need for such jokes and gags. You're too busy working on more important things."

"Perhaps, but of course you know I can't tell you anything at all."

There was more flirtation in her voice as she looked back at him over her shoulder. She wandered down an aisle filled with some of their more juvenile prank items. Fred felt a little embarrassed that she wasn't looking at something more sophisticated. Did she think he was as big of a joke as what lined the shelves in his shop? She picked up a trick wand and chuckled when it changed into a rubber chicken. Some of the twins' first products were still some of their bestsellers.

"I remember you from Hogwarts."

He felt a flush to his cheeks that he was glad the darkened room hid. There wasn't a single memory of the witch in his head from those years. She was only some faceless younger student in a rival house. While he was certain their paths crossed, he felt ashamed that he couldn't remember it. Almost as if she could read his mind, Millicent offered him a friendly smile that helped put him further at ease.

"I wouldn't expect you to remember me. I was awkward and chubby and uncomfortable in my own skin."

"And such lovely skin it is."

She laughed again, dispelling the last of Fred's worries. He was glad she was there alone with him in the dark. Both of them agreed it would only be one night. Where was the harm? They were adults after all.

"Thank you. I brooded around the castle miserable at having to be there at all. I'm far from dumb, but I've never enjoyed school. Maybe you understand that?"

He smiled, but didn't say anything in response. There was no need. Just about everyone who ever saw him or his twin brother at school could tell that. If they'd been more like Percy and actually finished their homework, they might've had enough Owls to satisfy even their mother, but that never appealed to them. Studying the subjects that interested _them_ outside the strictness of the classroom was more preferable. He learned a lot more by that method. Millicent must've been the same way if she was able to impress the higher-ups in the Department of Mysteries enough to give her a chance to be an Unspeakable.

"I was easy to miss in school if you weren't one of the poor Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs I was pushing around. But not you. Not Fred Weasley. Is it wrong if I confess to you that I had a bit of a harmless crush on you in your seventh year?"

"Are you sure it was me and not my brother? Even our own mum can't tell us apart sometimes."

Millicent didn't laugh at his weak attempt at a joke. Once she placed the trick wand back on the shelf, she started walking slowly towards him. His rapid heartbeat returned. Each step she made in his direction only made him more nervous, but there was also an excitement he couldn't deny.

"I've _always_ been able to tell the difference between you."

"Have you really? How?"

"You and your brother aren't exactly the same. Anyone who can't tell the different just hasn't been paying close enough attention."

She was close enough by that point to touch, but he kept his hands to himself. It was difficult to rein in his self-control. He desired nothing more the closer she got than to pull her into his arms and not let go. A number of highly inappropriate desires flooded his thoughts. With his hands resting at his sides, he watched her continue to inch her way towards him.

"George is handsome, of course, but I could always tell it was you I was looking at because I'd always forget to breathe."

A witty remark was on his tongue that no doubt would've made the enchanting witch laugh again if she'd allowed him to speak. It was stopped, however, by another press of her lips against his. Unlike the first kiss they shared, she didn't immediately pull away. The kiss quickly deepened. It was his turn, it seemed, to forget to breathe.

Minutes passed slowly as they kissed. For the first time that night since he sat down next to her before the ceremony, his mind cleared of all coherent thoughts. Neither seemed to be in a hurry to escalate beyond the gentle and thorough exploration of the other's lips and mouth. Fred held her close to his body with his hands, but even that had a note of innocence. They'd been closer when they were dancing. It was as if they had the rest of their lives ahead instead of just the one night they agreed to.

A playful nibble and a tug on his bottom lip brought an unexpected groan out of his mouth. Breaking apart just long enough for him to see her cheeky grin, the atmosphere in the room abruptly changed. There were no more innocent or hesitant, sweet touches. Grabbing her hips in both of his hands, Fred pulled her body against his. It was only when he felt her smile against his lips that he realized they were close enough there was no way for him to hide his desire from her. Not that she seemed to mind. Her fingers slid through the hair at the base of his neck, tightly tugging at them as she moved. Slightly painful, but more pleasurable and delicious, he tightened his hold on her hips. Without moving her lips from his, Millicent wrapped her long legs around his waist. His hands slid to her firm arse that was _definitely_ not fat much to his delight.

"Where's your bedroom?"

"Upstairs."

"Too far."

She was right, of course. Unable to make it past the stairs even after he placed her back on her own feet, they fell in a heap on the floor next to the large display of _WonderWitch_ products. Nothing more than a tangle of limbs, he wasn't sure how they ended up with their clothes on various shelves. It was a shame they weren't in a well-lit room, he thought as his body hovered over hers. He was certain he would like what he was able to see.

"Fred, _please_. We'll go slower the second time."

The promise that they were far from finished that night was all the encouragement he needed to slide between her thighs. She deserved to have her body worshipped and he swore to them both that he would take until the sun came up to do it properly, if necessary. Gone was his nervousness from the front door. He thrust inside her warm, supple body with all of the confidence he'd ever possessed. Millicent's loud, throaty moans of encouragement threatened to push him over the edge long before he was ready. Most of his encounters with women over the previous several years had been perfunctory with very little passion. Nothing between them could be any further from that. He felt certain that they could come together a thousand times and never be bored.

"Yes, Fred. Oh, fuck _yes_."

She lavished the skin she could reach with kisses, stopping every few moments to catch his lips again. Even their kisses were heated. A man could go mad with lust and never be satisfied that he'd had enough in her embrace. He wanted to explore her body in its entirety, wanted to discover what made her shiver and pant. When she began to tremble with promises of her release, he pressed on. Harder. Deeper. He wanted to feel her come apart, wanted to know that he had the power to make her scream. She was primed and ready. It took all of his self-control to not topple over with her when she began to shake with the violence of her orgasm. He wanted to see her through it to the end before he found his own.

Yes, darling. Come for me. _Ahh_. Come for me."

" _Fre_ …"

His name was incomplete in her incoherent moans. Feeling her inner walls tense up and squeeze him inside, he could think of nothing but thrusted once more. _Twice_. And again before he could see or hear nothing at all but the sound of his own heartbeat exploding in his ears.

He didn't realize he'd collapsed on top of her until he felt her kiss the top of his head. Fearing that he was crushing her with his weight, he scrambled to move over. She laughed, breaking the silence of the moment.

"You didn't have to move over."

"I didn't want to suffocate you."

"Nonsense. Most women won't admit it, but there's something very comforting about the feel of a man's weight on top of her. And you hardly weigh enough to hurt me."

Leaning on his side, he stared at her in the dim light hoping to be able to see if she was telling the truth or not. He wasn't sure when she was joking or not. It was a maddening feeling that he found out he rather liked. Instead of rushing away like he feared she might, Millicent chose to continue teasing him.

"But, seriously, you're too thin. Do you eat enough?"

"Now you are starting to sound like my mum."

"Just what every woman wants to hear when she's lying naked next to a man on a cold, hard wooden floor. 'You sound just like my mum'."

Her laugh made it clear she wasn't serious. It felt so bizarre to have a naked woman laughing _with_ him. Was this what he had to look forward to more of when they finally made it up the stairs for another round? To his surprise, he found that he liked the thought of more with her. Somehow he didn't think he could get his fill of her in just one night.

"It feels wrong to talk about my mum after we just… you know."

"Yes, you're right. It is rather weird. Speaking of your mum…"

The sudden change in her voice made him fear that she was about to get serious.

"What would she think if she knew what just happened here?"

An exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows and a wink made them both laugh. He'd been wrong to fear she would change the mood.

"She would be overjoyed. Probably start picking out our china pattern."

It was the complete truth even if they both chose to take it as an amusing joke. Molly Weasley would indeed start planning her son's nuptials the second she found out that something had happened. All of her other children, with the exception of the likely eternally single Charlie, were in love and paired up with a partner she adored. No doubt his mother would want to encourage the possible budding relationship between them if she knew about it. Even learning about the depraved acts they committed in the middle of the store that catered mostly to school aged children wouldn't deter her from her mission. Fred knew he would need to be careful with what his mother discovered.

"Ahh, I see. Well, I've personally never been much of a fan of anything too fussy or formal. I like to be fairly practical and never too showy. Gaudy is more Pansy's…"

He silenced her teasing rambling with another kiss. When the thought that whatever man ended up marrying the woman would be the luckiest bastard in the world crossed his mind, Fred knew he had to do something drastic. They couldn't keep pretending. It would be hard when reality returned with the morning sun.

" _Meow_."

Sensing his feline with bloody awful timing nearby, he tried to shoo Crookshanks away with the wave of his hand. Instead of leaving, the damned cat only moved closer. Millicent's lips curved into a smile against his mouth.

" _Meow_."

The cat would not be deterred. Whether he was hoping for another bowl full of dinner or he was displeased that his nightly slumber was disturbed by their activities was unclear. Millicent pushed Fred off of her gently and sat up.

"Damn cat."

She snorted. Crookshanks walked past his owner straight into the open arms of their guest. Sensing a cat lover, it didn't take the beast long to begin purring loudly at the attention.

"What an adorable cat. I just adore animals. So much easier to love than people in my opinion."

"Yes, _most_ of them. Crookshanks isn't always easy."

"Wait, 'Crookshanks'?"

Millicent pushed the orange cat away from her far enough to take a closer look at his face. Though neither of them bothered to turn any sort of light on, their eyes were mostly adjusted to see in the dark.

"This was Hermione Granger's cat. I remember him from school."

The reminder of the witch he'd never been able to get over felt like a punch to his gut. He didn't want to think of Hermione when he was alone with another woman. Especially not when that woman was naked. His heart began to race. They'd made a huge mistake. He shouldn't have brought Millicent home. She shouldn't be there with Hermione's cat. It was all wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

He was on his feet before he realized he even moved. Gathering up his clothes with a quick spell, Fred pulled them on. If he didn't get some fresh air, he worried that he was going to throw up.

"I'm very sorry, Millicent, but I… I'm so sorry."

Ignoring all of her pleas for him to stop, once Fred was dressed he rushed out the front door and into the empty Alley.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

He knew he made a mistake running away the moment he stepped through the front door of the shop. By then it was already too late to rethink his rash decision. The damage was done and Fred didn't see how he could ever look Millicent in the eye again.

How could everything go wrong so quickly? Crookshanks hadn't done anything wrong. Neither had Millicent. Just the reminder of Hermione in the aftermath of what had been an enjoyable encounter startled him out of rational thinking. Knowing he couldn't face the enchanting witch following his escape, he sped away from his darkened shop.

There was no one else outside in Diagon Alley to cross his path to his relief. He wouldn't know what to say to anyone if they did. Every movement he made felt as if something else had control of his body as he moved around in a heavy fog. In a brief moment of clarity, he directed his steps toward Knockturn Alley. If Millicent decided to follow him once she was dressed, he thought she would be less likely to go into the darker section of the shopping district.

The end of the war changed a great deal in their society. While he highly doubted Knockturn Alley would ever be completely purged of the darker characters who'd inhabited it for countless generations, there was a very superficial cleansing that took place there once Lord Voldemort was defeated. At the very least Fred was no longer afraid to wander it after dark. Though he could feel the presence of others lurking in the shadows, no one bothered him.

Once satisfied he wasn't likely to bump into Millicent, he allowed his mind to wander again. He knew he was an idiot for running out on her like he did. No doubt her feelings were hurt and she was every bit as mortified as he was. Maybe she'd even curse him the next time she saw him. It was possible she would avoid him as much as she could in the future and he wouldn't even need to worry about looking her in the eye again.

The thought of not seeing her again made him indescribably sad. Was he throwing away his one chance at happiness? Millicent was amazing. Any wizard would be lucky to be with her. She was everything he would want in a woman… if he wasn't still pining way for the love he could never have.

Why couldn't he just move on? His situation was hardly an uncommon one if he ignored the bit about Hermione using a Time-Turner to save his life. Every single day people all over the world were unfortunate enough to lose the ones they loved to death. Of course it took time to heal and recover, but eventually most of them were ready to find love again. Was there something fundamentally wrong with him that he was incapable of opening his heart up? For the briefest of moments that night, he almost thought he could. The damned cat he couldn't help but love appearing as he did was nothing but a bucket of cold water on his dream. He wasn't ready to move on. Maybe he never would be.

It was all unfair to Millicent. He almost hated his family members for pushing them together. Couldn't they tell he wasn't ready? Eight years was a long time and maybe most people would be ready far sooner, but he wasn't. It was unfair of them to try to force him. Of course, he had to remind himself that only one person in the entire world apart from himself even knew he loved Hermione. It wasn't fair of _him_ to be frustrated with his family for simply trying to make him happy. And to Percy's credit, he did try to discourage the matchmaking even as he reminded his little brother that it was all right to move on to love another.

The rain that was promised earlier in the evening finally arrived. It was all very dramatic to be brooding down a dark street in the rain, but even Fred had to admit it was a terribly embarrassing cliché. Just because he couldn't go home yet didn't mean he should risk getting wet and sick.

A pub he'd been to a few times when he was trying to avoid anyone he might know proved to be the answer. The White Wyvern was a shabby establishment even more disreputable than the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, but it had a warm fireplace and and few bottles of Ogden's Finest from a fairly decent year. Once he ordered a double from the wizard behind the bar, he claimed the small table closest to the fire. None of the other patrons seemed to even notice he was there. All for the best in his mind.

The night was winding down for most of the questionable customers scattered around the dingy main room. It was growing very late or very early depending on how one chose to look at it. From the corner of his eye he could see a heavily made-up witch far past her prime attempting to solicit an invitation home from a couple of wizards well into their cups. Whether she was seeking pleasure or payment wasn't immediately clear, but it was incentive enough for Fred to turn his full focus to the flickering flames. The last thing he needed was for the witch to think _he_ might be interested in her favors. One complication at a time was plenty for him.

He was grateful that most of the pub's Saturday night trade had gone off to their beds. Relatively quiet, he was able to hear himself think. He wasn't sure if that was necessarily a good thing once he started up again. The image of Millicent holding Crookshanks naked on the floor of his shop repeated itself over and over. Only a fool would be upset with it, he supposed. Even in the darkness he could tell it made for a pretty picture. Any normal man would've kicked the cat out of the shop to fend for itself for the night and carried the witch upstairs. He used to pride himself on being nothing like 'normal' men, but that night he wished he could be.

"How long are you going to continue running away from your future, boy?"

With his eyes focused on the flames and his mind far away, Fred didn't even notice he was no longer alone. Looking up afraid that the witch from the corner was about to try to sell him her wares, he was almost relieved to see that it was an elderly woman he didn't know. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn't place where he might have seen her before. Countless people came in and out of his shop. Perhaps she was in there once to buy a present for a grandchild… or a _great-_ grandchild.

"Excuse me?"

She didn't wait for an invitation to take the seat across from him at the small table. Startled by her boldness, he didn't even know what to say. His mother would've hexed him if she ever heard him disrespect someone so elderly, but he was sorely tempted. The woman _unnerved_ him to say the least.

"I asked you how long you are going to continue running away from your future."

He didn't have the first clue how to respond properly to her question. What right did she have to even ask? She couldn't possibly know anything about him. Deciding that he wasn't in the mood for a stranger speaking cryptically to him, he was ready to argue.

"I'm _not_."

"Oh, is that right? Seems to me you've done an awful lot of running for a long time."

" _Who_ are you? You don't know anything about me."

She waved her hand as if to rid herself of his pesky questions. Fred didn't want to keep sitting there. The woman was a nuisance. He couldn't understand how anyone would be so bold as to approach a complete stranger. Perhaps he'd lingered too long in the pub. Taking deep gulps of his fire whiskey, he had the glass empty in seconds.

"Who I am isn't important. What's more important is what you're going to do next. You have a lot of choices to make and you must make the right ones. You won't get another chance."

"Madam, I don't know who you are or what you are trying to…"

With his hand free of the empty glass, the crone reached across the table to grab it with hers. Surprised at how quickly she was able to move, Fred froze. Her grip was much stronger than he expected. She held his hand tightly to get a closer look at his palm.

"You don't believe you have a purpose, that you shouldn't even be here."

"How did you..?"

He shook his head to remind himself that he couldn't allow himself to get drawn into a bizarre conversation with the woman. Self-proclaimed fortune tellers who were able to read basic clues and signals about their targets weren't uncommon in shady pubs. They usually sat in a corner somewhere they could have a commanding view of the establishment to watch the customers. Picking out their marks was a delicate business. The wrong one would not only not pay them but might even make trouble for them with the house. A fortune teller worth their salt had to be sure before they even approached a potential that they could unbalance them with just a few vaguely worded statements.

Divination was an imprecise branch of magic to put it mildly. Fred studied it in his third year with his twin brother for a laugh. It didn't take either of them long to spot their professor for the fraud she was. Nor did it instill in him any respect for the magic that seemed to be made up of mostly heavy perfumed incense and a lot of open-ended questions. Anyone with enough determination and lack of morality could find their own victims to prey on. He was a salesman and could spot another one from a kilometer away.

"If you will excuse me, madam, I was just leaving."

Fred ripped his hand out of her tight grip. As he stood up, he felt the urge to blast the knowing grin off of her mouth. She didn't seem perturbed at all that she was about to lose a potential customer. He reached into his pocket to find a sickle or two to toss at her in exchange for peace.

"She took your place on the other side of the Veil."

Her words stopped him. There was no way that she would've… _could've_ known that. Only a handful of people outside of his own family knew the details of Hermione's death and how it was meant for him. Every single one of them that did he trusted with his life to keep the secret. Soon after he became Minister for Magic, Kingsley asked that they keep the details of Hermione's death quiet. He didn't want the public to know about how careless the Ministry had been with their Time-Turners. There was simply no way that the strange woman in the pub could know anything.

"You're right to feel guilty about that. Your loved ones tell you you shouldn't, but they're wrong. If not for you, she'd still be alive."

No longer in a rush to hurry out, he resumed his seat. Was she really able to see all of that from his palm? Or was she just a gifted Legilimens who could sneak into his mind without him even noticing? He'd never seen much reason to learn Occlumency until that moment. Even if she was just reading his thoughts, he couldn't deny that it felt comforting to have someone else say what he'd always known to be true. He _was_ guilty of Hermione's death. If she hadn't decided his life was worth saving, he would've stayed dead. Maybe she wouldn't have survived the battle anyway, but that wasn't the point. If she'd died after that, it wouldn't be _his_ fault. It would've just been a cruel twist of fate.

"Guilt is a powerful feeling, is it not?"

"Yes. How do you know all of this?"

"It's easy to see if one only knows where to look."

Part of him was still convinced she was a fraud poking around in his brain, but he didn't want to argue. He'd let her tell him what she thought he wanted to hear and then he'd pass a couple of galleons to her in payment. It wouldn't hurt him any to lose them. He had a vault full.

"You may be responsible in your own way for her death, but that doesn't mean you have to be miserable for the rest of your life. You could move on."

He fought the urge to groan. If he heard one more person tell him, including himself, that he needed to just move on, he was in serious danger of going completely mad. Sensing his frustration, the strange woman smiled.

"There are many paths to happiness. You could move forward… or you could move back."

If she was about to suggest he attempt time travel, he was prepared to laugh in her face. It was impossible. Anyone with half a brain and the tiniest bit of interest in the subject knew that much. Time-Turners only went a few hours back in the past. _Not_ years. Even if someone was able to invent one that could theoretically go back that far, there were too many chances for dangerous time paradoxes. It simply couldn't work.

The moment he ran into Professor McGonagall's office to search for the Time-Turner he knew was hidden there wasn't the only time he looked into the possibility that maybe he could turn back the clock again. He'd lost count the number of times he sought out new possibilities over the eight years since she died. Even Hermione would've been impressed by the number of books he'd read on the subject. And even if he was somehow able to figure out a way to go back that far in the past, who was to say that it wouldn't still happen just as it did? Maybe they'd both be killed the next time. Or someone else entirely would be killed. There were too many dangerous possibilities that he couldn't in good conscience think of that as a viable option.

"You left a piece of yourself behind the Veil. If you want it back, you'll have to go get it."

"How?"

She leaned across the table to point a bony finger at his chest. Right above his heart she poked him repeatedly in the same spot.

"With the right amount of sacrifice, you could fix any mistake."

Still not understanding what she was saying, he felt the desire for another drink. At some point he began to sober up and he didn't relish that feeling. Excusing himself for just a moment to refill his glass, he asked the witch not to leave. He had dozens of questions for her once he fortified his courage. She made no promises, only smiled. He never appreciated when someone spoke in riddles. For her, he would make an exception.

There was no waiting at the bar. Seeing him approach, the bartender poured another fire whiskey. Fred placed his money down. With his drink in his hand, he spun back around. He wanted to ask the woman what sort of sacrifice she meant and would it really fix _any_ mistake? The words were on the tip of his tongue, but there was no one to hear them. A quick glance around the room yielded no sign of the witch. He knocked back the entire glass in one quick swallow. The second it was back on the bar, he rushed out the door. Surely she couldn't have gotten far.

He looked up and down Knockturn Alley for any trace of the mysterious woman and found none. For all he knew, she was simply a figment of his imagination. The rain let up at some point when he was inside the pub. He could see the barest promise of the sunrise. There were no more excuses for him to stay outside any longer. Exhaustion was creeping up on him. Soon he would be needing his bed.

Finding the shop still dark was an encouraging sight. Even more so was discovering the front door had been locked. Since he knew he hadn't done it when he ran out of there, he had to assume that Millicent was kind enough to lock it behind her when she made her own exit. Fred was glad to know he wouldn't have to face her just yet.

As he passed the spot on the floor at the foot of the staircase where they hadn't been able to keep their hands off of each other, he felt a sinking in his stomach. All signs that anything happened were gone. Millicent's clothes were nowhere to be seen and even the products they'd knocked over in their haste on the shelves were upright again. Another wave of powerful guilt crashed over him as he realized she must've taken the time to tidy up before she left. Maybe she needed something to do to keep her mind occupied as she waited for him to return. He shouldn't have allowed alcohol and loneliness to dictate his deplorable actions. Neither of them were going to walk away unscathed from that incident and he couldn't help but blame himself.

The upstairs flat was dark and quiet as it always was. It seemed like an eternity since the days he shared it with his twin brother. He felt more of the sadness from earlier. His life could be a bit lonely. Even with the damned cat who liked to wake him up before sunrise for his breakfast. Fred was a bit surprised to not be greeted by Crookshanks. It was getting close to the time of morning he liked to eat. Not wishing to be disturbed by the beast demanding food once he finally climbed into bed, he chose to fill up the bowl without being prompted. Pushing open the closed kitchen door, he froze yet again that night.

Millicent hadn't left at all. Instead of rushing out into the night to go back home, she remained there in his shop. He couldn't understand why. Anyone else would've left already. He'd been gone _hours_. She didn't seem to notice. Seated at the kitchen table sipping tea as if she'd done it a thousand times before, she seemed perfectly at ease. He wanted to run again.

"May as well come inside, Fred. I know you're there."

Being a Gryffindor meant that he was cursed with the stigma of being one who possessed a great deal of courage. While it wasn't always true in his case, under normal circumstances he prided himself on not being afraid of confrontations. Whenever there was a difficult customer ready to shriek their displeasure, he was glad to shield his employees and his twin brother from the worst of their vitriol. During the war he'd been almost careless with his safety in the quest to be courageous. He was embarrassed to admit that it almost felt like a game. In that awkward moment, however, he wanted to be a coward.

He wasn't though. Knowing he was caught, he pushed open the kitchen door the rest of the way and stepped inside. Millicent gestured to the chair across the table from her with her hand. He hesitated.

"Do I need to seal the door shut or can we sit down and have a discussion like two mature adults?"

Her tone wasn't cold nor was it terribly friendly. It was easy to forget that she was a Slytherin when she was making him laugh so much only hours before. His experience with other members of her House was they were mostly haughty. Not so with her. Hearing her speak to him in such an imperious manner reminded him that there was a lot about the woman he didn't know. He thought it was a pity that he wouldn't get the chance.

"No, that's all right. We can talk."

Once he sat down in the chair, he could see the stress in her shoulders lessen just a tiny bit. She seemed more like the woman he'd been getting to know and less like the worst members of her House. When she poured him a cup of tea, he could see the tiniest trembling in her hand. He hated that he was the cause for her being so upset. Though guilt was something he dealt with on a constant basis, he wanted to do whatever was necessary to assuage it. She deserved more than what he'd done to her.

"I don't have any excuse for running out like I did, Millicent. It was wrong and you did absolutely nothing to deserve it."

"How long have you been in love with Hermione Granger?"

Millicent asked her question so matter of factly that Fred was initially unsure he heard her correctly. There was a boldness to the woman that he found admirable. He started to act dumb, but stopped himself at the last second. She deserved more than that. Hadn't he been awful enough?

"Since the Quidditch World Cup. Were you there?"

She nodded.

"In the chaos of the Death Eaters marching around the campsite, I was scared for her. That's when I realized it. Maybe I'd been in love with her longer than that, but that's when I knew."

"Did she know?"

"No. I never told her. I tried not to even feel it. Ron was in love with her and it didn't seem right for me to try to swoop in and… Well, it doesn't matter."

"She's why you're always so sad."

There was no reason to deny the truth. Fred couldn't explain it but he felt an overwhelming desire to be completely honest. Perhaps if Millicent understood all of the details that they'd all tried to keep out of the public she might see why he wasn't worth her time and energy. He didn't want to hurt her again, didn't want to make her sad. He wasn't worth it. She needed to know it all.

"Hermione is dead because of me. _I_ should be dead."

The slightest crack in her stoic façade appeared. He could see the sadness in her eyes.

"You're an Unspeakable. You're used to keeping secrets."

"Yes, I am. What is this, Fred?"

"Promise me that you won't tell _anyone_ what I'm about to tell you. I promised the Minister I wouldn't tell anyone."

It was evident that she was intrigued. No doubt the promise of a secret excited her intellect. One didn't became an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries if they weren't interested in learning everything they could about any forbidden subject.

"I died… during the last battle. Augustus Rookwood exploded a stone wall over me. It crushed me to death."

"Fred, that's not funny."

"No, it's not. I assure you I'm not making a joke. I _died_ , Millicent. I'm not supposed to be here. Hermione… this is the part Kingsley doesn't want known. Hermione was allowed to borrow a Time-Turner during your third year so she could take extra lessons."

"The Ministry gave a _child_ a Time-Turner so she could take more classes?"

Her eyes were wide with disbelief. Fred couldn't blame her. Of the long line of ridiculous decisions the Ministry of Magic made over the centuries, that was certainly one of their most foolish. Any number of incidents could've taken place with someone so young and inexperienced in possession of such a powerful magical artifact. He nodded.

"My boss always says that Cornelius Fudge was a worthless Minister. I see now what he means."

"Yes, well, it gets worse. Professor McGonagall never returned the Time-Turner to the Ministry and they didn't seem to notice."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Of course they didn't. Complete and utter incompetence. There are so many things in my department that I want to change. Did you know that we can't…"

Her cheeks flushed pink at the realization she almost said more than she should. The first smile he'd seen since he'd run out crept onto her lips. He could feel even more of the tension between them begin to dissipate.

"Well, the particulars don't matter. Just know that I have plans and several proposals. Hearing that they lost track of a Time-Turner should surprise me, but I don't think it actually does. Not after Saul Croaker told me that…"

She covered her mouth with her hand. Seeing her wide eyes, Fred couldn't stop the laugh that snuck up on him. Nor did he try. Millicent removed her hand and grinned.

"Sometimes I struggle with not blurting out something from work. All of the old timers tell me it'll take me a few years for it to become second-nature. I hope they're right. But, please continue. What happened? How did Hermione save you?"

"She knew where McGonagall kept the Time-Turner. When I died, she snuck into her office and stole it. After she turned it back, she hid in the corridor where I died. She pushed me out of the way, but it wasn't enough to save her too. She took the wall that was meant for me. She died shielding my body with hers."

Millicent let out a deep exhale. There were tears in her eyes. Fred was certain that if he looked in his, he'd see them too. Somehow it never got easier thinking about that moment. Sensing his pain, she reached across the table to take both of his hands in hers.

"I'm very sorry you lost her, Fred. Especially since she didn't even know you loved her. Does it help even a little knowing that she loved you too?"

Shocked by her question, he didn't even know what to say. Dropping her hands, he ran them both through his hair. What could she possibly mean? Hermione didn't love him. There was no way.

"Don't tell me you didn't know that?"

"No, Millicent, I don't know that because it's not true. Hermione didn't think of me that way. She loved my brother."

"Yes, she probably did love Ron, but she loved you too. Maybe even more. How else can you explain her going to such lengths to save you? She didn't want to imagine a world without you in it."

"No, no, that's not true. We were friends. She cared about me as a friend, but that's it. Maybe because she was a Gryffindor…"

Millicent held up a hand to stop him.

"Please spare me the whole 'all Gryffindors are brave and courageous and noble and only out to save the good' blah blah blah. Hermione loved you. She sacrificed herself for you because she _loved_ you. There's no other explanation."

"Yes, well, let's say that you're correct…"

"I am."

"What does it matter? She's dead and she shouldn't be. _I_ should be dead."

Fred couldn't deny that it felt better to finally tell his story to someone other than Percy. It meant a great deal to him that he was able to speak so candidly with his older brother and their shared experiences that horrible day in May eight years earlier brought them closer than they'd ever been before, but it was different somehow sharing it with Millicent. When he stopped to really think about it later when they were apart, he would likely feel guilty about baring his deepest secret. Until then, however, he wasn't going to worry about it. Not when Millicent seemed eager to share it with him,.

"It makes me very sad that you feel that way, Fred. Hers was a beautiful sacrifice. I can understand, of course, why you're so reluctant to try to move on, but I wish you could. She would want you to be happy."

"I'm sorry that I treated you so poorly, Millicent."

She waved her hand to stop him again.

"No, don't be. We agreed this was only going to be one night. No future, no strings, nothing beyond one night. That was always the plan. I stayed because I was worried about you. I really do want to be your friend, Fred. Even if we can't be more than that."

"It was never my intention to hurt you."

"You're awfully full of yourself, you know? I suppose all of you Gryffindors are. One night with you and you just expected me to fall in love? How arrogant you are."

Her smile proved she was teasing. He was surprised to find that once again he liked being teased by the woman. If there was truly a way for them to be friends, he wanted to try. He could really talk to her. Other than Percy and his twin brother about _almost_ everything, he couldn't do that with anyone else. She made him feel safe.

"And if I can be completely honest with you, Fred, I'm actually relieved to know all of this upfront. I deserve to fall for a man who wants _me_ and only me. I can't compete with a ghost. I _won't_ compete with a ghost."

"Millicent, I…"

"No, you don't have to apologize again. I mean it. One night. We agreed to one night and even though it was interrupted, it's over."

She was very calm. Much calmer than he expected her to be after what he put her through. Perhaps she had enough time to calm down and think while she waited for him in his kitchen. She rose to her feet and closed the short distance between them. Leaning down, she brushed her lips against his temple.

"Go to bed, Fred. You're exhausted."

All offers to walk her downstairs to the front door were waved off as unnecessary. Once he heard the click of the door shut behind her from upstairs, he made his way to his bed. He might have been just as tired as she suspected he was, but he was concerned he wouldn't be able to turn his thoughts off long enough to sleep. So much happened in such a short period of time. His concerns were in vain. He fell asleep thinking about the mysterious old woman in the pub.

Was there really a way to fix everything?


	8. Chapter 8

_**Important Author's Note**_ _ **: THIS IS STILL A FREMIONE!**_

 _ **Based on the view count of Chapter 7 being about half what it has been on previous chapters and the review count being something close to just a third to a quarter of the previous chapters, I'm guessing a lot of people stopped reading this story. Kind of bums me out. I'm sure it's because they believe it's no longer a Fremione. Some of the readers even told me that it was a waste of their time. I'm sorry to hear that, but I**_ _ **promise**_ _ **, it is a Fremione. It always has been a Fremione and it always will be a Fremione. Just because there are complications doesn't mean all hope is lost. It'd be a pretty boring story if there weren't any, right? Please trust me.**_

 _ **In honor of my birthday today, I'm updating all four of my current WIPs. Be sure to follow me for more stories! :)**_

* * *

Chapter Eight

Sober again, to his disappointment, Fred opened his eyes sometime in the early afternoon. Used to sleeping only a few hours on a regular night, he wasn't able to stay asleep longer no matter how much he wished he could. There was a freedom in sleep that he never got anywhere else. In his dreams he rarely had to worry about anything. Sometimes, if he was really lucky, he even dreamed about _her_. Not nearly often enough, unfortunately, but when he could see her face and hear her voice even for just a few minutes he could survive on those moments for just a little while longer.

There was no reason to get out of bed with any haste. Crookshanks was already thoughtfully fed by Millicent while she waited in the kitchen for him to return home. Concerned that he might be in danger of nursing a rather severe hangover, Fred chose to keep the shop closed until Monday. He never did like to know that his employees were downstairs working while he was upstairs. Even though he paid them and quite well at that, he would've felt an obligation to work too. It was his twin brother who suggested they close up for the rest of the weekend. Evidently, George hoped that his brother would have a need to relax on Sunday. Perhaps he had been cohorts of Audrey's without Fred even realizing it. He did seem awfully eager to do his part in pushing Millicent and Fred together.

Just thinking about the enchanting witch he'd humiliated himself in front of just hours earlier made him desire nothing more than to pull his blankets back over his head for another few hours, days, _years_. How could he have been so foolish? He knew there was a very real likelihood that he would drink too much at the wedding. And of course once he saw Millicent, he knew that several members of his family would make it their personal mission to ensure they had lots of time alone. In a way, he supposed it was sort of sweet. They _did_ love him. Even when he'd spent eight years being quite difficult whether he meant to or not, they hadn't entirely given up on him. He knew that was nothing small. Many others couldn't count themselves so fortunate.

For perhaps the millionth time in his nearly thirty years, Fred wished he had the power to travel back through time. If he could even just have a few hours, he would make certain that he was polite and cooly aloof around Millicent all through the wedding and the reception that followed. At the first moment it was possible to make an escape without being unforgivably rude, he would've rushed home _alone_. He didn't want to hurt Millicent. Not even a little. She deserved so much more than that, so much more than him. Multiple times she might have insisted that she wasn't upset, but he couldn't be sure that was true. Not really. How could anyone trust what a woman who was paid to keep secrets said anyway?

He thought it was after one or closer to two when he put his feet on the floor. There hadn't been time for a shower after he returned from Knockturn Alley. After his conversation with Millicent in the kitchen, he was so exhausted he almost didn't make it to his bedroom. Hoping it would make him feel just a little bit more normal, he stood underneath the hot water spray longer than usual. Just when he thought about plugging up the drain in the enclosed glass shower and seeing if it was possible to drown himself, he heard a loud 'meow'.

"You have the most bizarre timing of any cat, you know that, Crooks?"

It was said with a chuckle that the cat responded to with another 'meow'. Sometimes he thought they could speak the same language. Not that time though. Crookshanks sat on the rug just outside of the shower staring at Fred through the foggy glass. After several more loud 'meows', the odd creature exited the room. Perhaps years of solitude and self-imposed isolation made him a bit insane, but he _thought_ the half-kneazle was giving him a piece of his mind. He wished for a spell that would give the cat the ability to speak English or for him to be able to speak 'meows'. Either one would work.

Feeling marginally better after rinsing off, he decided not to test his drowning theory. Once the water was off, he wrapped a towel around his waist and returned to his bedroom. Crookshanks lay at the foot of the bed staring at the wizard. Another sharp 'meow' came out of his mouth. There was a displeased expression on his whiskered face. Was the animal angry with him? He did seem to enjoy the attention bestowed upon him by Millicent. None of the other witches he'd allowed in his home ever got close enough to scratch or pet him. Or perhaps more likely, Crookshanks avoided them altogether until the previous night.

"Don't tell me you think I was wrong to run away too. You should understand better than anyone else why I did."

He could've sworn he saw the cat's eyes narrow at his words. In eight years of living with him, he still was surprised by how intelligent Crookshanks was. Before he found him at the Burrow the day of Hermione's funeral, he would've thought he was more of a dog person. Maybe he was, but he could make an exception for him.

"You can't be mad at me too. I'm already angry enough with myself for the both of us."

As soon as he was fully dressed, he moved down the corridor to the kitchen. Too much alcohol the night before made him a bit dehydrated. He should've remembered to stock up on hangover relief potions. When he pushed open the door and saw a vial sitting in the middle of the kitchen table and his older brother behind his copy of the Daily Prophet, Fred sighed.

"You know, Perce, some people might find it poor manners to just barge into another person's home without knocking or invitation."

"I knocked. No one answered, so I came in."

"Maybe no one answered because no one wanted you to come inside."

"Then maybe this mysterious person should strengthen their wards."

The two brothers had had some variation of the same argument countless times over the years. Never was there any malice in it. Fred would never admit it, but he liked knowing that there was someone who would come barging into his flat if he was worried about him. Besides, it didn't matter what sorts of security spells he cast on the flat, if Percy wanted to come in to check on his brother, nothing would stop him.

"You know, it feels almost like we _just_ had this discussion yesterday, Perce. Are we so old now that we are just going to keep repeating ourselves until we die?"

"It's possible." Percy folded up the newspaper and set it down on the table. "Now we could take our time with small talk and niceties until we eventually meander to why I'm here or I could just come right out and tell you why Audrey sent me here. Which would you prefer?"

"Honest and blunt, please, but I think I'm probably already aware."

"Did Millicent come home with you last night after the wedding?"

Fred wondered if it was too early to start drinking again. Something told him that before the end of their conversation he would want a drink. At least he could appreciate Percy being straightforward and honest. None of his other siblings would be. Not even George. They each had their own way of trying to get the truth out of him, but the older he got, the more he appreciated Percy's methods.

"Yes. She asked me to give her a private tour of the shop."

" _Uh huh_. Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. All very innocent and above board, I'm sure."

Sarcasm was one of Percy's hidden talents that rarely failed to make his loved ones laugh.

"Nope. Definitely _not_ innocent. She told me how she used to fancy me when we were at Hogwarts and I had to admit that I didn't remember her. She kissed me first. Didn't even make it upstairs. Just ended up right at the bottom of the staircase."

His initial plan was to give his brother enough shocking details that he would think twice about asking him about his love life in the future. When the opportunity came, Fred found he couldn't do it. He wanted to talk to someone about what happened. Maybe George would understand some of it if he waited until Monday when they were both working in the shop, but he knew he couldn't be completely honest with his twin brother. With Percy he didn't have secrets.

"On the floor? That hardly sounds enjoyable."

"Heat of the moment. You must understand that."

The hint of the smirk that appeared on Percy's mouth seemed to indicate that he did indeed.

"We were going to go upstairs to find a more comfortable spot to continue, but Crooks showed up. Ruined the moment. I didn't… I didn't handle it well."

"What happened?"

"She said Hermione's name. Here was this gorgeous, naked woman on the floor next to me and she brought up the one person I didn't want to think about. She remembered seeing Crooks with her at Hogwarts. Made a complete fool out of myself. Grabbed my clothes, got dressed, and ran outside into the Alley."

Though also tempted to tell his older brother what happened to him when he went to the pub in Knockturn Alley, he didn't say anything. What would Percy think of his story about the old woman reading his palm and telling him that he left part of himself behind the Veil? He would think he was completely insane. Maybe he would even break his confidence out of concern to tell other members of their family. He could be carted off to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. Not that he would blame them. It might be exactly where he belonged.

"Obviously you came back at some point. Did you speak to her?"

"Yes, she waited for me in here. I apologized to her for running and she asked me how long I'd been in love with Hermione."

"Smart girl. Did you tell her?"

"Yes, I told her everything. Even about how Hermione used the Time Turner to save me. She promised she wouldn't say anything, but she wasn't surprised to know there was incompetence in the Ministry."

Percy nodded his head. That was one point that he was absolutely in agreement with Millicent. Able to actually voice his concerns about what he saw in his Department, he did so frequently and at length. His proposals were public knowledge and every member of the Weasley family could sense when he was about to steer a conversation into a tirade about Ministry inefficiency. They didn't know what they would do without Audrey laughing at her husband and deftly moving him on to another topic without him even being aware she was doing so. The witch was worth her weight in goblin gold.

"Will you be seeing her again?"

"No, I won't. We only agreed on the one night. When I apologized again for running out, she reminded me that it was just one night. I'm too embarrassed to see her again and I wouldn't blame her for feeling the same way."

"Well, Audrey will certainly be disappointed. She was already planning vacations we could take together as couples."

Percy's grimace at the very idea made Fred chuckle.

"But better that she be disappointed than you and Millicent end up hurt. It sounds as if you were able to leave cordially."

"I hope so."

"Then perhaps there has been no real harm done. Audrey will just need to get over it, but I'm afraid she probably won't right away. I wish to apologize in advance for what may happen next."

He wasn't worried about his sister-in-law. If she tried to play matchmaker again, he could handle it. Thinking about Audrey reminded him of her bizarre behavior at the reception. There hadn't been an appropriate moment to ask his brother about it, and if he was really honest, once he started dancing with Millicent, he'd had other more pleasant thoughts to think about.

"What was wrong between you two last night? I've never seen that sort of tension between you. Not sure I've ever even seen Audrey unpleasant."

The reminder of his wife's behavior brought on a heavy sigh from Percy. For a brief second it looked as if he was about to roll his eyes, but he managed to keep from giving in to such a childish response.

"I have a new colleague in my department. Her name is Mathilda and she was at the wedding. Apparently, Audrey didn't appreciate me _not_ mentioning that she's very attractive when I was telling her about her a few weeks ago when she started. I think she was jealous. She's been feeling a little sensitive about the extra weight she's put on since Lucy was born."

"What extra weight? She's as gorgeous as the day you married her."

"Do you mind telling her that the next time you see her? Maybe she'll listen to you because she doesn't when I try."

Fred was relieved to hear that their spat wasn't more serious than it was. Rarely had two people been so perfect for each other. Once he had all of the details he was going to get out of his brother, Percy excused himself to go back home. No doubt Audrey was waiting impatiently for any sort of news. She might have sought out her cousin for information but with their two girls still being so small, it was doubtful. Sending Percy out for news first made the most sense.

Alone once again, he headed downstairs to the shop. When he was bored or restless, he liked to go into the shop when it was closed to tidy up and make certain everything was in order. They'd made quite a mess in their rush to get their clothes off, but everything was back where it should have been. Millicent was very thorough while she waited for him to return.

His mind kept traveling to thoughts of the enchanting witch no matter how hard he tried to get them to stop. Was he making a mistake? They had fun together. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could move on from Hermione. It wasn't as if they were ever even an item. She didn't know he loved her. After eight years of mourning a woman he couldn't be sure loved him back, was he just being a fool to not try? No one expected him to be alone forever. When a husband or wife lost a spouse, their loved ones gave them time to grieve, but usually after a year or two they were encouraged to try to find love again. Why was it all right for a widow to try to find love and not him? He was imposing impossible standards on himself that made little sense.

 _"With the right amount of sacrifice, you could fix any mistake."_

The words of the old crone came back just as clearly as if she was standing next to him speaking them again. What did she mean? Their entire exchange had been unnerving to say the least. Replaying everything she said back in his sober mind made even less sense that it had when he was drunk. He wanted to know what she meant about leaving a piece of himself behind the Veil. There was no way she could've known any of that. Was she a real Seer? He didn't think those existed.

Somehow he was able to keep occupied for the rest of the afternoon and much of the evening. His thoughts never travelled very far from either Millicent or the crone or Hermione. It was enough to drive a man completely insane. Wanting a drink to try to clear his head and maybe a chance to find the old woman again, after he filled Crookshanks' dinner bowl, he headed back to Knockturn Alley.

The dodgy section of the London shopping district wasn't so bad or creepy when there were other people about. Most of the stores in all of the Alleys were still open. If he'd chosen to be open that day, his shop would be as well. It was still early even if the sun was starting to descend in the sky. There were more patrons in The White Wyvern than the night before. Almost every single table was taken. He was fortunate to find an empty stool at the end of the bar.

After the barkeep poured him a glass of fire whiskey, Fred began a careful look around the busy room. No one would appreciate being stared at, but the clientele that frequented a Knockturn Alley pub was even less inclined to be friendly about suspicious looks. He kept his face as neutral as possible as he scanned the faces for the elderly woman. To his disappointment, she wasn't there.

"Do you remember me from last night?"

The barkeep nodded once. He was a wizard of few words for a stranger.

"Do you remember the old woman that sat at my table? The one who read my palm?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You were alone the entire time you were here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You were talking to yourself. Thought you might be crazy."

"Oh, well, I suppose I was drunker than I realized."

Nothing that the man said made any sense, but he didn't feel like he was in a position he could argue. He _had_ been drinking a lot and was under some emotional strain. Besides, the man was a bit frightening. He didn't want to get caught in any sort of altercation. What would his brother-in-law Harry say if the aurors had to be called? Taking big gulps of the fire whiskey, he finished his glass, thanked the man, and tossed a few sickles on the bar.

Outside of the pub he felt a chill go through his entire body. Even though it was night, it was still the middle of July. Was he getting sick? Maybe that's why he imagined that he saw and spoke to the old woman. There had to be a logical explanation for the experience. When he turned towards the exit of Knockturn Alley, a gust of wind blew into him from behind. Spinning around quickly, he caught a glimpse of a figure staring at him further back in the Alley.

He knew he wasn't hallucinating. The old woman from the pub smiled. As long as he lived he would remember what she looked like. Their encounter the night before had been too unnerving. Without giving it much thought, he sped up his steps in her direction. At about fifty meters from her, she turned her back to him. She moved deeper into the Alley. Fred followed.

If he was thinking clearly, he would've known he was being foolish. No place was completely safe in the wizarding world from those who used dark magic, but going deeper and deeper into Knockturn Alley was dangerous. There were people who would see the red of his hair and want to kill him for no other reason. His family was the most notorious of blood traitor families. She very well could be leading him into a deadly trap.

But still he kept walking. Ignoring all of the stares he got from the ones who slipped into the shadows when he came nearer and the ones who weren't afraid. No matter what happened next he would get to the bottom of the mystery.

The old woman lead him to a storefront he didn't recognize. Fred wasn't certain that he'd ever walked that far into the Alley before. Nothing around him looked familiar. Whatever the name was above the door was so faded and cracked that he couldn't read it. At first glance the windows were dark, but when she pushed open the door he could see light inside. Seeing an opportunity to close the distance between them enough that they could talk, he ran the last few steps of the way.

One step inside the shop and there was no sign of the woman. How could she just disappear again? Maybe the barkeep was right and he _was_ going insane. Was it nice to be a patient in St. Mungo's long-term care wards? He might get the chance to find out soon enough.

Creepy was the only adequate word he could use to describe the shop. Everything was dark and dingy and covered in a thick layer of dust. No one would just wander into a store like that unless they had a purpose. The shelves were stacked with objects that he didn't even recognize. Vials lined an entire wall. He got the impression that he really didn't want to know what was inside them. The Ministry of Magic should probably raid it at some point if it hadn't already. If there weren't loads of illegal items in the back room, he'd kiss an acromantula.

The shopkeeper was a short, bald man with dark eyes and old-fashioned robes. If he was suspicious of all of his potential customers or just Fred wasn't clear, but every step Fred took further in was watched. When he wandered near to the back of the shop, he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye. Spinning swiftly, he saw the old woman again.

She stood in front of a dusty bookshelf that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Books of every size and thickness were haphazardly stacked in precarious piles. Using her wand, she levitated a thin tome hardly bigger than his hand out of a stack touching the ceiling. Hovering high in the air, it slammed to the floor with a loud bang when she lowered her wand. Smiling once more at Fred, she disappeared behind another shelf.

"Wait!"

He stepped over the book she dropped to the floor to rush after the witch. She couldn't have gotten far. The shop was too crowded with junk. Following the same path she took, Fred turned behind the shelf she had disappeared behind straight into a dead-end. She was gone. There was no way she could've gotten out of there without passing by him first. He exhaled a deep breath. What was he doing? What was wrong with him? He had no explanation. It was time to go home. Maybe he needed a vial of dreamless sleep potion.

Just as he was about to step back over the book on the floor again, the pages started to turn. Remembering what his father always said about being leery of objects where their brain can't be seen, he stared at the volume, but didn't touch it. Entirely on its own, unless the witch was hidden behind another shelf he wasn't aware of casting a spell on it, the pages of the book flipped. Lasting only seconds, when it stopped, the book lay open to a page filled with tiny writing. Standing over it wasn't close enough to read the small print.

Against his better judgment, Fred picked up the book. It was a spell book older than any he'd seen since Hogwarts. Bound in a dark leather that was cracked and peeling in places, some of the pages threatened to slip out. Because the room was so dark, he used the tip of his wand to illuminate the book enough to read what it said.

He almost dropped it. His hands trembled. How could they not? In them, he held a spell to call someone back from beyond the Veil. The potential power that he held was immeasurable. Very dangerous and no doubt highly illegal, he didn't care. After the initial shock wore off, he closed the tome and took it to the front counter. The shopkeeper seemed almost relieved to sell the book. One galleon and three knuts hardly seemed a large enough price to pay if it worked.

Fred carried the book inside his pocket all the way back home. Fear followed him with each step. What if someone found out what he had in his robes? Would he be arrested? Or worse, would he just _disappear_ never to be seen or heard from again?

He didn't relax until he was seated in his favorite armchair next to his fireplace. Over and over again he read the spell, practically memorizing its incantations and wand movements. He was a powerful wizard. With the right amount of determination, he could do it. A sacrifice was required to complete the spell. Not necessarily a death sentence, if it wasn't completed _properly_ it would be. In order to bring a loved one back from beyond the Veil, copious amounts of something he had would need to be offered: heart's blood.


End file.
